


Penchant

by ciara_jane



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Gone in Sixty Seconds (2000)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciara_jane/pseuds/ciara_jane
Summary: Rose Tyler turns down the Doctor’s offer of travelling with him. As she tries to figure out just who she is, and what she wants in life, a chance encounter for a new job turns Rose’s world upside down - and she’s not sure she’s made the right decision.





	1. Whim

**Author's Note:**

> Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Gone in 60 Seconds belongs to Touchstone/Jerry Bruckheimer and associated parties. This terrible fic idea however is all mine. Gone in 60 Seconds’ timeline is shifted forward, and at the time of this story has not yet happened. Thank you to acreasy1 and chiaroscuroverse on tumblr for encouragement and cracking the whip.

“At least you didn’t go running off with that alien man,” Shareen grinned, smoothing down Rose’s flyaway hairs. “Look, you’ll be fine. It’s easy, these things. You go in, you sip free drinks, you flirt with rich men, and you go home with a wad of cash at the end of the night.”

“I’m not sleeping with any of them, Shareen.”

“No, no, see that’s the beauty of it! Y’don’t have t’!” As many times as Shareen had “explained” this to her, Rose really wasn’t sure she was comfortable with it. Sure, she’d gone off with an alien to save London, and she’d never look at underground wastewater tunnels the same way (or shop mannequins, for that matter), but it didn’t change the fact she was still Rose Tyler, unemployed shop girl, and in desperate need of direction in life.

That whole ‘it travels in time’ bit, should’ve listened to him, Rose lamented. At least that was a guaranteed disaster she could escape from, unlike this that Shareen seemed utterly thrilled over.

“Look, I make six, seven hundred, sometimes a thousand quid a night and tips, Rose, it’s sittin’ an’ talkin’ an’ drinkin’ and a good time, keep your knickers on,” she added. “Doesn’t matter if you’ve not got A-levels or something, you’re a pretty face and just listenin’ to ‘em, flatter ‘em now and then, that’s all these rich bastards want. That’s how you do it, and y’ve got the people skills to do it!”

Rose looked down at the practically painted-on sheath dress in a mossy green, the over-the-knee black leather boots, and the not-her-style-but-not-too-gaudy baubles on her wrist and neck. “I look like a slag!”

Shareen laughed. “You’re wearing more clothes than I am,” she answered, and not allowing Rose another word, grabbed her hand and yanked her into the club.

Her eyes widened, despite Shareen’s hiss of ‘stop being so obvious you’re new’. The club looked more a glitzy lounge than the sort of club she’d expected; low tables with leather seating, chandeliers that were indisputably Swarovski crystal in ornate designs dangled in seemingly random patterns. The bar itself looked better stocked than any off-license Rose could name, and the seven or so bartenders seemed overworked as it was. Her best guess: three to four hundred people in the room, in various states of intoxication, while a jazz quartet played nondescript tunes to liven the atmosphere.

As her friend dragged her along the side wall, the direction of her saunter clear (a particular table, one with a parade of well-dressed ladies that Rose surmised were in their position, but on second look, definitely levels above them), Rose took in the faces of the tuxedoed men and evening-attired ladies. It looked more like a grand ballroom the more she saw, but as she caught snatches of conversation it quickly crashed her hopes this would be something a step up from the pub-talk when she’d tagged along with Mickey to catch games.

“Ryan, so good to see you,” Shareen’s voice dripped with honey, and Rose recognised it as her lady-killer voice. Worked wonders, really, especially with forgotten IDs or to snag a drink or two underage. “Ryan, this is Rose, Rose Tyler, I told you about her the other day?”

She stepped up, giving a slight hair toss and a cheeky, tongue-touched smile. “Rose Tyler,” she purred, offering a hand. Ryan shrugged, ignoring it, and as he turned his attention back to Shareen, “’M I not good enough or something?”

Shareen gave her a quick ‘shut up!’ look before, “Rose is a little feisty, do you know any tables for men looking for a minx?” Rose tried her hardest not to roll her eyes or slap her friend, though both sounded like excellent choices at the moment.

The Ryan fellow turned around, exchanging some words with another gentleman at the table. “Reen, you and her, table eleven. Keep them there other than drinks for two hours, and get 500 quid a piece.” His tone indicated no argument or further discussion, and Shareen gave some acquiescent comment before linking arms with Rose and leading her toward the aforementioned table.

“Ryan’s hard to please, don’t take it personally,” she muttered under her breath. “Let’s get a drink and wander over. I don’t know this group, seen ‘em ‘round but haven’t sat with them. Sounds like they’re difficult, so leave it to me.” Shareen pulled her to the bar, ordered them both a stiff drink, and led the way toward table eleven. “Ugh, I need this drink almost as much as I need the money.”

At the rate this was going, Rose felt almost certain there was going to be a long, long night ahead of her. She took a long swallow of the drink, wincing at the strength, just in time to arrive at the table.

“Gentlemen,” Shareen began, “the party can now begin, I have arrived!” Rose barely held back the groan of annoyance as the six men at the table budged over, giving space for the new arrivals. “What’ve I missed?”

Rose spent the next several minutes (she cursed not being able to look at her phone for a time check) glancing among the men at the table. Two of them looked old enough to be her grandfather; the other four were at least closer to her mother’s age, not that it improved the situation. One of the two older men, called Hidalgo, spoke with such a heavy accent that Shareen begged off talking to him because, “the drink is slurring your words so much, can I just call you my _pachuco_?”

She leaned in, with a flutter of her lashes, and whispered in Shareen’s ear. “What’s a _pachuco_?”

“Mobster,” she replied. “He and the guy beside him are leaders of a Mexican drug cartel.”

“Oh.” Rose struggled to school her face to neutrality. “Is this safe?”

“’Course it is,” Shareen whispered as she took another sip. “Just don’t take them home with you.”

_Easy for you to say_ , Rose thought, wanting to escape sooner rather than later. She hazarded a glance toward Ryan’s table, and he shook his head, as if to indicate her work was nowhere near done yet. _Well that’s that, this is how I die._

One of the others, an Italian man with olive skin and hand gestures that only grew wilder the more he drank, was attempting to explain why his mafia ties made him an excellent choice to lead an underground syndicate here in south London, and associating with _Pachuco_ and his son would make an excellent business association, something to do with shipments of drugs into the continent while expanding this or that trading with upper-class Mexican families for wine, though Rose wasn’t sure. It seemed the younger _pachuco_ was just as confused, so Rose didn’t feel a sliver of guilt in writing off the conversation as bluster.

Rose excused herself briefly for another drink, this one not quite as strong as the first but still enough to warm her up and distract her from the confusion of the attempted business association. As she resettled on the seat, she glanced over at Shareen and her animated storytelling, having several of the gentlemen leaning toward her as she lowered her voice, pulling out the stops to keep them interested. As the story wrapped up, the entire table (aside from Rose) was laughing, clearly enchanted and amused. It seemed only now that some of the men at the table even realised Rose was there. 

“So Reen, tell us about this girl, tell us about your friend,” the Italian, a man she thought was named Antonio, hiccupped, gesturing toward Rose. “She’s a quiet one, she always so shy?”

In a charming laugh, “Rose is more a listener than a talker, y’know, she was working at Henrik’s during that explosion and all the crazy robot mannequins and all that!”

This seemed to intrigue some of the men, including one heretofore silent. “Were you in the building, or just nearby, when it went up?”

“Er, I was in the street, felt the shockwave… was caught behind turning in lottery money, almost didn’t make it out,” she said, wondering even as the words came out how she’d explain this one. “Er, some bloke in a leather jacket found me and shoved me out of the building, guess he made it out alive…”

“Did you know him?” the same man asked, leaning forward a bit. “Heard someone say they were aliens or monsters or something.”

“Who believes in aliens, that rubbish…” Rose muttered, not really wanting to discuss the subject further; a few locks of soft brown hair framed his forehead as he seemed to be searching her eyes. It felt entirely too familiar, but… alien at the same time. Literally.

She shook it off, though for some reason she couldn’t shake the feeling of having seen his cravat and maybe even that pocketwatch before, though she couldn’t place it. “It was quite a mess,” the man said, and he sank back into his seat. She could almost feel an awkward disappointment from him.

“Well, I mean, who knows, they could be real, could be among us, but I can’t spend my days wondering about crazy things like alien invasions, people’d call me a nutter if I did somethin’ like that.” Rose laughed, and a general chorus of agreement went up from the table.

The younger _pachuco_ laughed. “In Mexico, where I lived as a child…” Rose tuned out the man’s story, hearing words now and then about folklore and something-something UFOs, firmly believing that putting all that nonsense behind her was the best thing she could do. She startled back to reality when he directed a question to her. “Miss Rose, so what is it that you do now? Since your place of employment exploded?”

“Well, er, I’m… between jobs right now,” she hedged. In fact, she hadn’t even started looking. She’d picked up an odd child-minding job here or there, and her mum had gotten her to fill out the compensation paperwork and there’d been a little money there, but really she didn’t have much of anything to fill her days. “Maybe I’ll go back to school or something, a degree’ll get you far my mum says.”

Another of the younger men, this one with stringy, almost greasy long hair and a receding hairline, spoke up. “That piece of paper won’t get you anything in the real world, not if you want to actually make money. Money now is in who you know, who you deal with, it’s all business. 

“He’s right,” _Pachuco_ agreed, and his son nodded. “Education, as long as you can count and add numbers you’re at the bottom. Get to know people, shake the right hands, kiss the right rings…” The Italian grinned at that. “One of my associates, he say, ‘money isn’t in what you know, is in who you know,’ and he’s right.”

“Exactly. You get in with the right person, you say the right things, do the right deals, keep your mouth shut, you’re set for life. You’re pretty girl, they keep you from knowing too much, they get caught and you know nothing, you get no jail time!”

Rose closed her eyes to take a sip of her drink, knowing if she didn’t, the combination of confusion and concern for her future well-being would be entirely obvious, like a sheep in a room of wolves. _Come on Shareen, help me!_ But help was not forthcoming, as Shareen’s mouth was currently occupied with the tongue of the _Pachuco_ ’s son.

The stringy haired man dug out something from his pocket and without flourish, flicked it in Rose’s direction. She caught it, and gave it a glance; a business card. “Call me tomorrow. Not mob business like these boys here,” he said, standing up as he drained his glass. “I’m out of here tonight.” The glass shattered with the force he used to bring it down to the table top, and Rose marvelled that she hadn’t gotten a single shard of glass in her direction. Her surprise evident, the man passed behind her and whispered, “Woodworking” before disappearing from sight.

The business card read, “Raymond Calitri, Custom Cabinetry and Woodworking.” Her eyes followed the man out of the club, and she tucked the card into her clutch. He was entirely too creepy, this Calitri bloke, for her to even consider phoning up for a job.

Putting the card in her clutch gave her a chance to glance at the time; almost two-and-a-half hours. They’d get their £500, maybe a bonus too, she wondered to herself. “Oh little Rosa,” _Pachuco_ grinned, his drunken gaze fuzzy and his words slurred, “I like me a little rose to sit by my bed, you should come with me…” As he spoke the man stuffed a wad of bills into the top of her dress, and before she could even think, Rose lifted a hand and smacked him across the face. Shareen gave a look of abject horror; there went their money, she was sure of it. But the older man only laughed in response. “I do like a feisty woman, I do like the chase…" 

“Shareen, I think this is my exit,” she hissed, and her friend gave a look of, ‘well, if you must.’ Rose rolled her eyes and gave a kind nod to the alien-obsessed man in the cravat, and walked over to Ryan’s table. “We kept them there two hours, where’s my quid?”

The longer it took him to count out the payment from his roll of bills, the less Rose liked him. Definitely was not doing this again, though as he pressed a full £1000 into her hand, she did briefly reconsider.

After a cab home, Rose hurried up the stairs to the estate and into the flat, quietly moving to her room. Jackie, dozed off by the telly in the living room, looked up at her as she passed. “Back so soon? Thought you’d surely be out past midnight.”

“It’s ten past, mum, and Shareen was having more fun than I was. Look, see you tomorrow?”

“G’night love,” her mother called out, as Rose hurried into her room.

After locking the door she dug out the money stuffed into her top, while peeling off the clothes and shoving them into the back of her closet. She’d made £1000 that night, but it felt absolutely dirty, and she shoved that money in the back of her closet too. Rose sighed, knowing she’d end up using the money anyway even if it did feel dirty, but as she pulled her ID and lipstick from her clutch, the stringy-haired man’s business card fell out. _Why would a cabinetmaker be making that much money anyway? I mean he looks like he couldn’t even wash his own hair. Surely…_ Rose’s eyes went wide. No, she wouldn’t consider it at all. Certainly not. There was no reason for her to. First getting involved with a crazy, time-travelling alien, now getting involved in something else to get bad people after her family?

Definitely not.

Rose scrubbed at her face with a flannel and tossed it on the floor, burying herself in the blankets and soon falling to sleep.


	2. Preference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose debates a repeat performance, shopping with her mother and Shareen, and if she's going to make the call.

In the harsh light of morning, that business card stared Rose in the face. It taunted her, she decided, and she’d set her mind that she’d not respond. No call, no inquiry, nothing. She’d forget about it. She’d keep it to remind her that she’d never sink that low, but she’d have nothing to do with it.

Her mobile beeped at her, a new SMS from Shareen. “Coffee at Costa? Ten minutes?”

Rose groaned, and dialled her up. “I’ve literally just gotten up.”

“Okay, so… twenty minutes?”

“Half an hour.” Rose ended the call and tossed her phone on the floor, and forced herself to get out of bed. It didn’t take that long to dress and get ready, and she didn’t give it a second thought when she peeled out £200 to take with her. _That was much easier than I expected._

She hurried down to the street and to the nearest station, hanging a right at the corner. Costa came into sight, and she could see Shareen had snagged the table right at the front window. She waved, and Rose hurried on into the shop.

Rose had barely gotten her drink and paid before Shareen practically tackled her and dragged her to the table, looking quite ready to burst out of her seat. “What is it with you today?”

Shareen wasted no time in grinning wildly at her friend. “Ryan wants you to come back for tonight, too! I can’t believe it, I was pretty sure he’d say you weren’t his usual type of woman to be at the club but evidently most of our table thought you were not bad your first night out! You were fantastic!”

“No!” Even Rose seemed surprised at how flatly she rejected the invitation. “Shareen, I’m not going to do that again.”

“Why not?” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, sipping some sugary coffee drink. “You looked like you had fun last night, I mean, you actually stayed the two hours…”

“Didn’t have exactly much of a choice there,” Rose groaned, taking a sip of her drink, wincing at the sudden bitterness. “What did I even order…”

“Black, no cream, wasn’t it?” In Shareen’s haste, Rose hadn’t even dressed her coffee. “That’s on you. But c’mon, it’s Saturday! Let’s get you another dress and—”

Rose set down the paper cup and looked across the table, clearly unimpressed. “You did hear me when I said I’m not doing this again, right?”

With a waved hand, “I know but you need the money so, c’mon. What’s it going to hurt?”

“Shareen, you know this isn’t my thing.”

“Are you still hung up over that weird alien guy? Come on Rose, alien. Pretty sure Mickey’s not going to care, you know? I mean he’s practically wrapped round your ankles so long’s there’s not a match on at the pub.” Shareen grinned, downing the rest of her drink. Rose now suspected Shareen had been at the shop since before texting her. “Look, Rose. You’ve gotta get y’self back out there, come on. There’s another party tonight, and hell if you want another there’s one pretty much every night. I mean, five parties in a month and you wouldn’t have to work a day!”

“’m not a slag, Shareen, an’ I’m not stupid enough to do this again, you know if mum found out she’d kill me.”

“Rose, your mum would probably love to take your place at a party like this, you know that.”

Her face contorted. “Shareen, that’s something I could really do without imagining.” Something she wouldn’t soon forget.

“No, no, but wait, she’s got some cute clothes, I mean, you saw her at the estate holiday parties last year, you know she can gab their ears off, she takes nothing from no one…" 

Rose opened her mouth to argue, to say something, but words failed. Finally, “Are you serious? I cannot believe I’m having this conversation.”

As she drained the remnants of her drink, Shareen pointed to her with the now-empty cup. “Look, Rose, not like you’re gonna call that guy with the business card. And usually _Pachuco_ isn’t there, his son’s much cuter isn’t he?”

“Are you encouraging me to cheat on Mickey?”

“Well he is on you. You haven’t got any work prospects, you know you’ve got to get that money somehow. Your compensation’s not gonna last forever.” Rose rolled her eyes, but knew Shareen was right. “Look, I’ll give you three choices. One, come out tonight. Two, find a job. Three, you call that guy on the card. And since I KNOW you won’t do the first two, you’re coming out tonight.”

Rose stood up and walked over to grab some creamer and sugar, giving herself a moment to calm down. “Look,” she began, sitting back on the vinyl-covered stool, “who says I can’t find a job?”

“Not today you won’t.”

“Aren’t you my friend? You’re supposed to have faith in me and encourage me and help me find leads!”

Shareen’s eyes widened before a grin split her face. “And I am, bringing you to the club tonight! C’mon. Tell your mum we’re all going out tonight. I’ll call you later!” 

Before Rose could even think to speak, she watched her friend practically flounce out of the shop. “What the hell is with you, Shareen…” She took a sip of her now doctored coffee, and closed her eyes, trying to think of her next steps. Rose ruffled her hair with both hands, attempting to scrabble together a plan of sorts; she’d gotten into so many scrapes before but this seemed even more ridiculous than even the time-travelling alien story.

 

“I’m home,” Rose called out, closing the door behind her, throwing the deadbolt. “Mum?”

“In here, dear,” Jackie returned, and at the sound of another voice, Rose froze in place. “Your mate Shareen’s popped by! Has plans for a girls’ night tonight, doesn’t that sound lovely?” Rose dropped her head against a doorjamb. “Rose? You all right? Don’t go wanderin’ round the flat with your eyes closed, unless you’ve got enough makeup to cover up a bruise or two… Shareen, you have something to doll up her face a bit?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and Rose went back to her room, falling against the door with a thud. She could hear Jackie yelling out to her, and Rose turned around to find a chair or something heavy to drag in front of the door. Even with that, she could hear Jackie and Shareen’s animated conversation.

“What d’y’think, Jackie? I mean, it’s just talking and looking gorgeous and free drinks.”

“Wish Rose had said something before goin’ out last night. People could get the wrong idea and us Tyler women aren’t slags.”

“No, no, no! It’s not that at all! No one’s goin’ home with anyone! You just talk and have drinks and that’s it, it’s a lot of fun! And good money!”

_Of course she’d say that. It was like honey to a bee._

“You don’t say…”

_Mum, don’t fall for this._

“I got 2000 quid last night, Jackie! Jus’ for sitting and talking!”

_Shareen, don’t encourage her._

“Just for sitting and talking?” Rose could almost hear her mother flip her hair. “Guess that means it’s time to turn on the Tyler charm! Rose! Get out of there now, we need to go find some new clothes for this!”

Rose sank down to the floor, head landing with a thud against the door.

“Rose? Rose, love, you okay? Rose? Did’ya knock out there? Rose? Moan and complain if you’re still with us!”

“I can’t believe you’ve got my mum into this!” Rose whined through the door. Maybe if she whined loud enough it’d distract her mum and mate long enough to try to throw herself out of the window? She shook her head, almost hating to admit that there wasn’t really a way out. Had this been back in school? Wouldn’t have given it a second thought; it was like stealing wine from her mum before and missing that party, but… to party with your mum? In questionable circumstances?

Shareen laughed, pounding her fist to Rose’s door. “C’mon now Rose, maybe if you’re lucky we can find you a cute dress before your mum cleans ‘em out!” 

_What is my life…_

Rose found herself repeating the same phrase as Shareen dragged (quite literally; her trainers were leaving marks on the polished tile floor) her through Topshop. Selfridges and H&M had been the first victims of the Tyler/Costello whirlwind; a few smaller boutiques followed, and now Rose found herself dragged toward a rack of clothes that – were she honest with herself – as long as her mum wasn’t around, Rose would’ve definitely have worn, but seeing her mother going through it…

“Sha _reen_ what do you think of this one? It would bring out her eyes, don’t you think?”

Rose winced, hazarding a glance at the… “outfit” her mother displayed. _Please Shareen, please be the voice of reason._ “She might need a lot more glitter to wear that, I don’t know if I have enough in my bag…”

“Mum that’s not even my size,” Rose said, snatching the strip of metallic fabric claiming to be a bandeau top with another strip that wasn’t much wider claiming to be a miniskirt. “This is a kids’ size!”

“Well I guess they are starting earlier, our neighbour Lizette’s daughter’s just barely thirteen and… she might like this—”

“Mum…”

“Wait, wait, are you sure you didn’t wear that to that one party?” Shareen looked contemplative a moment. “I think… oh that was back a few years ago…Oh! It wasn’t that!”

Jackie looked at her. “Not that?”

She giggled, giving a coy smile. “Nah, the one she had was magenta, not this light pink. Made her hair stand out, and her eyes sparkle.”

“Rose!”

Shareen nudged Rose in the arm, laughing. “And that was even before Jimmy Stone.”

“Shareen, if you don’t shut up, I won’t be going out tonight, not by my choice but mum’s…” Shareen gave a momentary yelp when Rose returned the nudge, not quite as teasingly as her original.

“But, uh, y’know, I was a terrible influence then, I shouldn’t have dragged her into that… at least we learnt our lesson,” Shareen covered; Rose could still feel her mother’s eyes burning into the back of her head. “Oh, oh JACKIE! Look at this! Rose’s just found something so cute for you!”

Rose had done nothing of the sort. She instead grabbed the nearest thing off the rack, which much to her horror was her mother’s size. At least it was only a top, a slinky, silvery halter top with some attached mock-necklace chains. She held it up, unable to look at her mother while displaying the attire.

Jackie snatched the hanger, holding the flimsy fabric up to her chest and posing in the nearby mirror. “Oh, do you think? I don’t know…”

“Let’s find you a cute blazer first…” Shareen grinned and led Jackie away from Rose; maybe the daggers Rose had been glaring in her direction finally were working their magic. Rose sighed as she attempted to select something to wear that evening. She did wonder if this détente would last between Shareen and her mother, though she did hope it would.

 

Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the hundredth time that evening; her mother and Shareen were settled at another table – Jackie entirely too comfortable for Rose’s liking. _Grown woman_ , she reminded herself, but the disco halter of earlier and a too-short combination of a bolero jacket and high-slit skirt, her mum was dressed more like a 20-year-old than Rose.

Sipping the drink at hand, some kind of spritzer ordered by Shareen before they were split off, Rose settled at her table, listening in to the four men at the table tonight. The discussion with these four was a business deal gone awry and a subsequent cover-up by a now-former employee. “If he doesn’t turn himself in we’re going to turn him over to the police,” the most senior of the men, sounding likely American and wearing a black tie with a brushed steel tie bar, was saying.

“Eighty thousand, can you believe it? Who’s so stupidly brazen to steal that much money? And right under the boss’s nose…” A younger blond man with a loud, aqua blue tie rolled his eyes, as if he were so impressive. (And he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. The boss seemed only barely tolerant, in fact.)

“Wonder why he did it. Don’t you think… we’re under an audit. How stupid do you have to be?” The boss rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, downing the rest of his drink. “What do you think?”

Rose licked her lips, finishing a swallow of her drink. “If you’re stupid enough to do it under your boss’s nose, you deserve to get caught.” A cube of ice passed her lips and she crunched it to slivers, before adding, “Probably didn’t do it alone, an ex of mine used to say if you’re gonna do somethin’ under someone’s nose, y’need a good partner to pull it off.”

Aqua tie man choked on his drink as his boss agreed. “The investigation’s still on-going.”

One of the remaining men took a long draught of his drink, shaking his head. “Eighty thou. I mean that’s someone’s bonus check.” Another American, but she couldn’t decide how highly he ranked. Red tie on this one.

_I don’t even think I’ve seen that much money in my life at one time_ , Rose mused. “I don’t know what I’d even do with that much money.”

“Buy some more dresses and diamonds,” chuckled the boss, “stash it in your mattress. Only put some in the bank,” he added, “easier to trace that way.”

“But y’know,” aqua tie man began, leaning in, “there’s a lot of money in the underground market for luxury goods.”

The boss made an unobtrusive nod, not a sound, while looking around as if worried he was being somehow observed or recorded. “You gotta be careful with what you say in places,” he said, not elaborating. “But be careful if you get involved with it, don’t piss off the wrong people.” 

Rose sat back and listened to the aqua tie man and red tie man go back and forth, a puzzle turning over and over in her head. Did the boss imply that black market trading happened here? It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it certainly made her feel even more uncomfortable. How much longer was she stuck there? Only twenty minutes passed?

This night was going to be much longer than the previous one.

 

A tap on her shoulder startled Rose back to awareness, some quietly muttered words to slip in and join the conversation, and another gentleman joined the group. It took a split second before she recognised the face – that Calitri guy from the night before. Her eyes widened in recognition, and he only nodded. He seated himself between the boss and red tie man, and Rose attempted to listen to the conversation, but it seemed purposely toned down just so she couldn’t hear.

“Rose~” came a cheerful tone behind her; Shareen. She knew it hadn’t yet been three hours, but if Shareen was joining her, maybe time would move a little faster. “Ugh, your mum has got me beat, she’s been flirting with half the men there…”

“She’d better not invite them round for tea,” she muttered, making room for Shareen to join them. “How much longer until we’re done here?”

“Ry said three hours but he’s been going round doling out money so might nip out early,” she answered, just as aqua tie man noticed her. “Well hello gorgeous, who might you be?”

_Not helping, Shareen_ , she groaned. Friend or not, Rose fully blamed Shareen for this mess in which she found herself. She raked a hand in her hair and wondered if she made a run to the loo, would that count against her?

“Tyler.” A voice behind her was the only warning before a hand came around her and stuffed a wad of bills into the top of her bra, which moments after she took and shoved into her clutch in as quick a movement as she could manage with a few strong drinks in her. She glanced over her shoulder, and felt it was pretty certain to be that Ryan bloke. The same hand came and shoved a wad in Shareen’s blouse too a few moments after, but she failed to notice, what with the aqua tie man’s hand up her skirt.

Rose stood up to take her leave, making some excuses of ‘good girls need to get away before the boss men talk,’ which felt a bit strange on her tongue, when the stringy-haired Calitri fixed her with a look. “Call Monday morning. My boss is very interested in you.”

“Call? Ah, no, uh, not…”

“Calitri is very selective. You fit the bill.” Oh, stringy-haired man isn’t Calitri? Even more awkward. Maybe she’d borrow Mickey’s computer and search for him… “Just call Monday morning. That’s all you need to know.”

“Sure.” She tossed her hair and turned around, seeing her mother just this side of sloppy drunk, and groaned. _The night’s still young, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get her to a taxi before she realises she’s got money in hand to go out…_

Rose was, unfortunately, not so lucky.


	3. Relish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose frets over, then is optimistic about, her interview with Calitri.

Sunday passed without incident, shy of Jackie’s ridiculous hangover, but as Monday began, the pesky business card stared Rose in the face. Her web search the previous day brought up nothing but some teenaged boy’s MySpace account and some random doctor in the United States specialising in paediatric ophthalmology, and neither seemed likely candidates for someone passing himself off as a cabinetmaker.

Rose glanced at her clutch, which – combining all her weekend earnings and tips – now held nearly £3000; suddenly maybe these little ‘sit and entertain men for a while’ parties weren’t as awful as she’d thought, especially if it let her laze about during the day. She’d get bored eventually but do this, get some part-time gig… it could work well. Though Jackie had given her an earful when she finally had gotten right, it wasn’t as if Jackie policed her comings and goings. Too much.

Did she really want to – should she really – call this guy? A thousand thoughts had swirled through her head, especially after the stringy-haired man of Friday came round Saturday and seemed to have some serious business with that boss, and said boss had only shortly before his arrival talked about underground, black market luxury sales… This was not something she should be getting caught up in. Right?

But a Tyler woman was nothing if not strong-willed. Maybe it was for something… something on the up-and-up and she wouldn’t be told a thing about the back-room deals? Was always possible, she decided.

Rose turned the card over in her fingers, trying one last time to talk herself out of it. Well, here goes nothing.

She dialled the numbers into her mobile, but it still took her a few moments to hit the send button. Rose felt her stomach twist into a knot when finally the line picked up. “Calitri.”

“Uh, I was given your card by an associate and told to call about a job?” Rose tried to keep her voice neutral and casual, but a slight hiccup in her tone interrupted it.

“Right, you’re the bird from the club. Riker’s told me about you.” Riker must be the stringy-haired bloke. “You got time today? Interview.”

Rose blinked, and nodded. “Ah, yeah, what time is good?”

“Eleven. Got a pen?” Rose jotted down the address on a slip of paper. “Dress smartly.”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

A moment of quiet. “No, just yourself. Oh, can you type?”

“I’m not bad at it,” she replied, “better than a lot of people.”

“Good. Eleven.” The line cut and Rose stared at her mobile, surprised. He sounded curt but almost familiar, but she shook it off, loads of people sounded the same over the phone. She tossed her phone to her bed and stood up, wandering out of her room to the bathroom.

Jackie, in her sitting gown with a mug of tea in hand, looked up as Rose’s door opened. “Morning, going out today?”

“Uh yeah, uh, got a job interview at eleven,” she said, and Jackie sat up from the couch. “I doubt I’ll get it but gotta try,” she said, closing the bathroom door behind her.

The door closing didn’t deter Jackie. “A new job? Where is it? What’ll you do? Still let you get that settlement from Henrik’s? Oh! I should call Sylvie, she’ll be so excited!” Jackie’s chatter continued as she phoned her friend, and Rose turned the shower on to drown it out.

Rose hurried through her shower and dressed – quickly as she could, pencil skirt and collared shirt, though she felt quite awkward – before running out the door to the station. She checked the address and found the stations she needed before hopping on the first train. His voice echoed in her head; man of few words, maybe it meant she’d get a gig and be left to her own devices? Could text Shareen all day, maybe, if she had a chance.

When she emerged from the final destination station, she hurried out of the station and tugged her skirt into place, dusted imagined lint from her blazer, and walked, heels clicking on the pavement, to the office building. Around the corner from the building, walk down the block, to the small warehouse, knock three times loudly at the door marked ‘Employee Entrance.’ Sounded simple enough, she decided, and she briefly wondered if she’d set herself up for a kidnapping. She still managed to put the voice aside long enough to knock at the door.

The door swung open and that same, stringy-haired man stood there. “Riker.”

“Rose Tyler,” she answered. Riker stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She stepped inside; the temperature of the warehouse felt almost icy as Riker led her further into the building.

“Oi. Calitri. She’s here.” A mumbled sound Rose couldn’t quite make out followed, and Riker led her to a small office, mini blinds covering the glass window, a ‘Keep Out’ sign in the corner. Riker opened the door and nodded his head toward the open door. Rose stepped inside, and she fully expected Riker to follow. 

“Dismissed. Shut the door.” Rose looked to the gentleman at the desk and jumped slightly as the door closed behind her, the blinds shifting left to right with the force. “Tyler, yes? Please sit.” She came around to one of the two metal-framed chairs, legs crossed at the knees as she tried to get comfortable. The man behind the desk, younger, mid-30s maybe?, piercing blue eyes, and an all-black ensemble, from his shirt to his braces to his trousers. She wouldn’t be surprised if his shoes and socks were, too. Rose was grateful to sit, given her momentary swooning over this possible new boss. “Raymond Calitri,” he offered, extending his hand.

“Rose Tyler.” She shook his hand, and he sat back in his chair. “So, err, what… exactly is this about?”

He snorted. “Riker told you nothing, I assume.”

“No, handed me your card and told me to call, then told me again to call on Saturday night,” she answered. No other exits except that door, and she hadn’t paid enough attention while walking through the warehouse to know if she had any other exit options. “Was worth a shot to call, see what it was, get out of the house, my mum’s on me about finding a job again.”

 

The man sat back, considering her; this Rose Tyler seemed self-assured, probably could give as good as she gets in a verbal spar, and has more common sense. _She’s looking round for exits, yet still went in blindly to a warehouse. Time for a test._ “Rose. Any good with numbers?”

“I ran cash at Henrik’s, I have some experience in that.”

“I didn’t ask for cash experience. I mean numbers.”

“You mean like fixin’ accounting? I’m…”

“Are you?”

“Spread sheets. Tracking things. Numbers and records. All above table,” he clarified, giving minimal explanation. “Office recordkeeping on computers. Answering phones. Can you do it?”

The blonde woman relaxed in her seat, looking genuinely relieved at the job duty list. “Oh, yeah, nothin’ to it,” she said, “was jus’ thinkin’ when that Riker bloke offered the card it’d be somethin’ black market an’ I’m not sure I want to get involved with that.”

He chuckled at that. “No, no, you’d be on the clean end of things. Need someone to keep an eye on my orders and monthly income from the cabinetry, take calls." 

“Oh, that’s a relief. You sayin’ I wouldn’t have to deal with coded calls and get swept up in some weird police sting for drugs or somethin’.”

“No, no. Other contraband, high-end luxury goods.”

“Don’t invite my mum, she’d be entirely too happy to help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here.” He turned to a file on another desk, holding it as he spun back around to face Rose. “We’ve got three people around here, two helping me with cabinets and another doing packing. You’ll need to do shipping labels when they’re ready. They’re custom orders, don’t have many but they’re all big ticket. More my hobby than anything else but every gangster’s gotta have a good cover story. Keep you out of the dirty stuff, you’ll keep your nose clean.”

“And maybe get a nice set of cabinets for mum for Christmas.”

“Or a nice bag or jewellery.”

The young woman paused, as if deeply considering the offer. Finally: “When do I start?”  
  
  


Around three Rose finally returned to the Tyler flat; she had a few bags of clothing in hand as she hurried to her room to avoid questions from her mum. A futile effort. “Rose! You’re back! How did it go?”

_There goes that idea._ “I, er, I got the job, it’s Monday to Friday day job, secretary for a cabinetry place, small custom order-type gig,” she said. “Had to get a few outfits for work.”

“Oh Rose that’s lovely! I told Sylvie you’d get the job, you’re too good a catch! But are you sure that’s your kind of work? Sitting at a desk? 

“Anything’s worth a try once,” Rose answered, leaving out the sidelong comment about her mother not doing much in her own job. “I’m going to just throw these in the wash, all right?”

“Sure, sure,” Jackie said, her attention on dialling a number on the phone. “Julie! Yes! Julie did you see…” Rose groaned as her mother began to drone on about the latest EastEnders episode as she disappeared to her room, taking off tags and stickers from the new purchases to prepare them for a wash.

While her clothes washed, Rose’s phone rang. She didn’t recognise the number, but answered it nonetheless. “Hello?”

“Rosey! Are you busy?”

_Must be the pub’s phone_ , she mused. “Mickey? What do you mean busy?”

A roar of delight in the background muffled Mickey’s response. “The match is on, but, I haven’t seen you in days, wanted to catch up! Drinks on me! It’s almost over, c’mon, come down, would you?”

“Mickey, I… Fine,” she gave in. “I’ll be round in half an hour?”

“Great! The match ends in twenty! Be ready to drink! Oh, oh, NO NO NO NO DON’T AHHHHHHHH!” The line clicked, and Rose’s eyes rolled back, more than a little annoyed. Of course he’d invite her down during a match…

After begging off finishing her laundry on Jackie, Rose hurried out, getting a message that Shareen and some other mates of theirs were also at the pub – a fact Mickey declined to mention as Tottenham scored against West Ham. She arrived shortly after 4, as the match ended and the Tottenham fans were rejoicing in their victory. “Hey,” she said, tapping Mickey on the shoulder. After a quick kiss, “They lost eh?”

“It was so close, that stupid flag, shouldn’t ‘ave been called!”

Shareen laughed, shaking her head, “I’m pretty sure he’s going to rail on about it. He’s a few bottles in already,” she warned with another laugh. “So how’d it go?”

Rose shrugged. “So I’ve got a job, at least, we’ll see if it lasts, yeah?”

“No way, you actually called him and went?" 

“I’m still in shock, but yeah, it’s this little warehouse behind the Shelten Building,” she replied, “basically keep the appointment book and answer the phone, nothing big.”

Her friend looked very confused for a moment. “Wait, why would he have an associate at the clubs if he’s just a cabinetmaker?”

Rose shrugged, but added, “I told him I’m stayin’ out of anythin’ illegal,” and at that Shareen’s eyes went wide. “No Shareen, I’m not doin’ that, don’t start getting’ ideas.”

“What are you getting yourself into, Rose? I mean, working in a warehouse?”

“He’s a woodworker, what’s he going to do – have an office in a high-rise full of table saws?”

Shareen fixed her with a Look. “You doin’ a desk job, why aren’t you in some kind of office? Not in a dark warehouse! I mean what if somethin’ happens to you?”

“Chance I’ll take, not the worst thing I’ve been in,” she shrugged, ordering a drink. “So we’ll see how it works. Besides, this Calitri guy’s not so bad, and Riker – he’s the stringy-haired one from the club? – he’s probably there for muscle, so, it could be worse but he looks like he could probably take out a few people ‘s long ‘s I don’t ask questions,” she laughed.

Mickey snapped from his stupor and looked to Rose. “What d’y’mean, a job? Found a new job? Henrik’s hiring again?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Rose’s too good to be just a shopgirl now, Mickey,” Shareen grinned, throwing an arm around her friend. “She’s got a desk gig.”

Rose shrugged. “I don’t know if it’ll last, but the guy seems pretty laid back, pays well… and if not, well…” She looked at Shareen, who only grinned. “And if someone comes by I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about danger.”

Shareen polished off her drink and looked at Rose. “Just be careful, y’know, those people at the lounges make lots of money and I’m not sure I want to ask how, but you could well be getting’ in over y’head.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rose grinned, finally knocking back the rest of her own drink. “Bring it on.”


	4. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has her first day at the new job.

When Monday morning arrived, Rose too arrived – to the warehouse by the Shelten Building, equal parts cautious and excited, if she’d admit it. Riker pushed open the door as Rose approached, and she nearly got a knock to the head. “Morning,” he muttered under his breath, letting the door swing open behind him.

“G’morning,” she said, walking in, the door smacking her backside as she came in, stopping short at the scene before her. Someone a good twenty, thirty yards ahead stood over a pair of sawhorses, a long panel of wood balanced atop them while smoothing the surface with a plane. The person seemed not to notice her, though another rather hulking man advanced toward Rose.

She swallowed, not sure where her voice had gone off to, when the hulk stood in front of her. “Rose Tyler.” His voice intoned a full stop, not a question, and she could barely manage a nod in response. “Follow me.”

While the whole experience was so far unsettling, it alone wasn’t quite enough to make her reconsider taking this job. Definitely uneasy, though, were she honest with herself. They crossed the warehouse and came to what looked like a front entrance – large doors resembling a garage, currently cracked open but she expected could fully open up to probably 12 feet – and she noticed the hulk unlocking a door to what she presumed was the front office.

A buzzing sound from the lights coming to life startled her to awareness. Tiled floors, blindingly bright lighting overhead, and chilled from an air-con, the room seemed almost clinically tidy as opposed to the woodchip- and motor oil-covered warehouse floor. An L-shaped desk with wheeled chair, a computer monitor, and stacks of paperwork and folders cluttering every flat surface, including visitor seating, and a tall, commercial-grade printer completed the room décor, minus the metal mini-blinds, currently closed. “It’s not soundproof,” the hulk said, and almost on-cue came the roar of a circular saw.

Rose walked around the desk to the seat, looking at the loose papers around her – spread sheets and receipts and date planner pages, including various debris of fast food bags and wrappers – and set her purse on top of things. “Calitri will be by soon to explain things.” The hulk turned on his heel and walked out the door, and Rose dropped herself into the chair. 

He hadn’t been kidding; based on just what she could see, plus the papers sticking out in all directions from the various file cabinets, Rose knew she actually had a task ahead of her. Rose opened the drawers in the desk and found one empty; inside it was taped a key she assumed locked said drawer. She tucked her purse into it and looked up as the door opened, Calitri standing with crossed arms. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, leaning back in the chair and nearly toppling back, only catching herself by sheer luck. The corners of his lips quirked and she stood up, dusting off imagined lint on her blouse. “Last person here left quite a mess, yeah?”

“Hasn’t been a person doing this properly in a handful of years,” he responded, shaking his head. “Friend of my mother’s, used to handle it. She was lovely, but passed away back in 2000. Had a few of Riker’s girlfriends give it a hand but they just wanted to screw around behind closed doors. There’s a back room, by the way, currently stores plywood for support beams, I’d avoid if I were you. He makes some unusual expressions when I tell him to get planks from there.”

“Good to know,” Rose managed, her voice almost keeping steady. “So what are all these recent receipts?”

“Just sort of thrown in here to figure out eventually, my own fault not thinking about some organisation,” he admitted. “I’d suggest organising things first by type then date – need to match up order tickets, any additional paperwork, completion ticket, and payment receipts up by customer. The file cabinets should be organised by customer’s last name, each customer has a different folder but customers’ multiple orders, same folder.”

“Got it,” she said. “And I guess another stack for all the spread sheets and dates?”

He nodded, picking up the closest one to the top of the stack on the desk. “Might be electronic versions on the computer, might not, I truthfully don’t know. But they need to be compiled – these are statistics for lumber orders and suppliers and that sort of thing – supplier side rather than customers.” He picked up a torn-out day planner sheet. “And this, make a box of them, lowest priority. Anything due this year, though, there’s a new day planner in my office I’ll bring you. Make sure they’re all entered and legible. Let me know when you’re that far in, everything separated into type. This year only, the 2005 planner pages, those are immediate priority, then the spread sheets, then customer filing, and last, the older planner pages.”

Rose nodded in acknowledgment. “Separate, this year dates first. Got it.” Rose looked around. “Have you got a few boxes? For sorting.”

“I’ll get some for you. Anything else you might want?” His voice seemed to soften, though he seemed a bit relieved that Rose wasn’t going to be off sleeping with one of his lackeys.

Lackeys.

He sure seemed like some enforcer, that hulk guy and Riker both did. Rose wasn’t sure she wanted to know their actual roles in Calitri’s organisation, either the cover one or his actual business.

“Do I need to fill out some hiring paperwork? Taxes or something?" 

“We’ll get that done later today, I’ve got a cabinet I need to finish before I draw up the papers. Once there’s space, can get you a small refrigerator and microwave for here if you’d like. Just don’t be on your phone all day, I will know what you’re up to.”

Rose blinked, but nodded. “Where’s the loo?”

He waved a hand and she followed him out of the room, and he motioned toward the back of the warehouse. She recognised his office, the door open and lights on beyond the blinds, but he pointed to a door to the right of his office. “There’s the toilet, got a sink. Could use a scrub, fair warning.”

“Got it,” she groaned, imagining just what ‘could use a scrub’ would mean. “I’m not a housekeeper.”

“No, not what I hired you for,” he agreed. “Usually I remember to clean it but Riker and Dieter don’t care, piss wherever, but I dock their pay if they pull that,” Calitri added. “I’ll clean it tonight, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Rose said. “Dieter is who, exactly?”

“He doesn’t say much, until you get to know him, but he’s the one you just met. He’s muscle, loading finished products and packing them for delivery, moves things round the building, and does other work for me.” He shook his head. “Best to keep you out of that. Anything else?”

“So the hulk has a name. Hm…can I pop out for lunch or something? Am I stuck here 8 to 5 or what?”

A slight chuckle escaped him, and she smiled at that. His eyes almost twinkled, and Rose found herself a bit surprised; that wasn’t a response she’d expected, but it felt oddly familiar, somehow. “Hulk… I’ve called him that a time or two. Well, no, you’re not chained to the desk for breaks or lunch. No bringin’ anyone back here, other than customers I bring here, but you can bring your lunch back here, I don’t care. Just clean up after yourself and empty your rubbish bin when you leave, I’ll show you where later. Lunch is anywhere between noon and two, for an hour.”

“Right.” Rose tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Anything else I should know?" 

Calitri shook his head. “Not for now. There’s a phone in there, but if it rings don’t answer it. It’ll go to answerphone, so you can just unplug yours so y’don’t accidentally pick up calls or get interrupted.” He smiled again. “If y’need anything, poke your head out and if I’m not working, I’ll be in my office. Don’t try yellin’ over the saws, though.” She looked at his pocket where his hand motioned, a pair of noise-blocking ear muffs hanging from his jumpsuit. 

Rose took a deep breath and nodded. “Guess I’ll get to work, then.”

“I’ll get those boxes for you shortly,” he said, and with a nod of his own, turned and walked back across the warehouse, turning round a corner and out of sight. Rose returned to the office, shaking her head at the mess. _This is not a job I want to do,_ she groaned, crossing the room and yanking open one of the filing cabinet drawers. Paper nearly exploded into the office, and she yelped in surprise as it nearly caused an avalanche.

“Stupid paper!”

“Already annoyed?” the hulk – Dieter, she corrected herself – asked, holding a few empty boxes and lids. “Calitri only had three boxes, with lids, hope this is enough for a start.”

His voice was oddly smooth and higher pitched than Rose expected, and she had to compose her face before turning to him. “That’ll be fine, just, er, just put them on the desk for now,” she said, waving a hand blindly as she tried to figure out what the hell had happened to the filing system.

He chuckled. “Wilhelm Dieter, everyone calls me Dieter,” he said, offering his hand. Rose crossed the room and shook it. “You’re Rose right?”

“Rose Tyler. First day.”

“Calitri’s been raving, ‘finally someone competent,’ since you left yesterday.” Rose’s eyes widened at that. “Said it finally looked like we’d have someone good ‘round here taking care of all the things we’re no good at.”

“You say that now, I’ve just been a shop girl up until recently. I don’t know I’m any good at this.”

“You can say your ABCs and numbers in the right order, you’re superior to the last several girls we’ve had in here.” Dieter shook his head. “You’ll do fine. Just don’t ask too many questions, keep your nose clean, we’ll keep you out of the _shady dealings_ ,” he laughed. “Besides, things around here are pretty boring, on the woodworking side of things." 

She huffed. “Right now I just need a job, more than anything else.”

“What’d you do before this?”

“Worked at Henrik’s.”

“The place that blew a month ago? Wow… Were you there when it happened?”

“Unfortunately.” _This guy is as bad as mum,_ she sighed. “Wasn’t hurt, at least.”

His eyes widened. “Heard a bunch of shop dummies went mad too?”

Rose shook her head. “I wasn’t around for that, my mum was out, said it was terrifying,” she managed, crouching down to start scooping up some of the mountain of papers at her feet. “I’d better get started on this,” she said, trying to end the conversation, hoping that getting started would make this go a little faster, so she could kick back and have an easy gig.

“Oh, yeah, er, right, I have some things to take care of, as well. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Sure. Thanks.” She gave him a smile and he grinned back before leaving the small office, and leaving Rose to her task. She sunk into the chair, head lolling back onto it as she collected her thoughts. _What fun this is going to be…_  

 

By the end of her first day, Rose had managed to clear off the visitor chairs, several mountains of paper from the floor, and the top of her desk into piles; she still had six filing cabinets full of papers to take out (not a single file in that office was anywhere near organised, she lamented), not to mention three stacks of boxes of files she needed to check, but as they rose to the ceiling she decided for the time being to ignore them.

A brusque knock on her door startled her, and she looked up. Dieter. “Tyler, we’re ordering some Chinese takeaway, working late tonight. You want? Our treat.”

“What time is it, even?” she asked, looking blindly for her phone.

“A little after five, you got somewhere to be?”

“Five’s my clocking off time,” she answered. “I should be heading home.”

Dieter almost looked sad. “C’mon, we’re ordering food, I’m sure Calitri would love to hear an update on things here.”

As if on cue, Calitri knocked as well on the open door. “Am I interrupting something? Oh… this is fantastic.”

Rose grinned, cocking her head to the side. “There’s still a lot more to go, but I’d say it’s a good job for the first day.”

“The boxes in the corner, wouldn’t worry about those until you’re finished with everythin’ else, those are pre-2000 records that are actually organised. Haven’t decided what to do with ‘em yet, maybe scan them or something. Not important now. Did Dieter tell you we’re ordering dinner?”

“I should be heading back home.”

“Really, hang around. Off work. We’ll be having drinks and eating. Unless you’ve got plans…” Calitri trailed off. “Already ordered the food, anyway. Thought we’d show you round the workshop. Get to know you a bit better.”

She frowned; part of her wanted to consider the offer, but part of her wanted to get home and relax. Rose wasn’t used to being hunched over files all day – she almost actually missed running all over the various levels of Henrik’s and talking with the customers. At the same time, she almost felt obligated to stay. She finally nodded. “I haven’t got plans, mum always says don’t turn down a hot meal, so…”

“Oh wonderful!” Dieter clapped his hands. “I look forward to getting to talk, but I need to run the mail to the post box.” He nodded his head and hurried out, and Rose sat back on her heels, standing up and resting against one of the file cabinets.

Calitri looked over his shoulder, then after Dieter was (presumably) out of earshot, he spoke. “I’ll never understand him, feel like he might be a weak link in production,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t have to stay if you really don’t want to. It’s just four of us, Riker’s back from his errand and I thought it might be nice for you to get to know those two. And not feel like we’re going to turn round and kill you or something.”

“Not… the first time that’s crossed my mind,” Rose replied, “but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen.”

“Oh? What’s got you convinced?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

“Easy. You need me to get your things in order in case somethin’ in your underground business goes wrong, and I’m clearly doin’ a better job than anyone recently. Besides,” she added, “You look like you need someone to whinge about Riker and Dieter to for being idiots.” Her tongue-touched smile shone as the words passed her lips, and he shook his head, clearly holding back a proper smile. “Am I right?”

“Closer than I should admit, if you’re about stayin’ out of the other business, Rose Tyler,” he replied, raking a hand through his hair. “Careful, you, gettin’ involved with the wrong sort of people could get you in trouble. Thought you wanted to stay out of that.” 

“Well…” Rose started, but found she didn’t know how she wanted to end that sentence. “Keepin’ my nose clean for the time being.”

He did finally smile at that. “Right. Food should come in about twenty minutes. I’ll come get you when it’s here, then.”

“Right then,” Rose replied, and nodded as he left her office. _Time to tidy up._


	5. Appetite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose makes a decision from which there is no turning back.

A rapid succession of raps on the door startled Rose; she looked up from trying to jam more rubbish into the bin and saw Dieter in the doorjamb. “Food’s here,” he said, a smile quirking up the corners of his lips. “When you’re ready, come on to Calitri’s office.”

“Right,” she answered, “just gonna run this bag out to the dumpster.” He nodded and she listened until the sound of his footsteps on the cement warehouse floor softened with distance. Rose tied off the bag and left the office, checking her purse still was locked up, and walked out to the dumpster to dispose of the bag. Entirely too much takeaway – wrappers, plasticware, and other rubbish – from the previous office tenants, she groaned.

As she returned to the office to retrieve her purse, she noticed the light on at Calitri’s office, and could hear Dieter’s amused laughter as he (attempted, she noticed) to tell a joke of some sort. Rose quickly rustled up her purse and walked across the warehouse, her own knock at the door a soft tap.

“Come in, come in,” Dieter said, hands sweeping in an ‘please, come in!’ gesture, much to Riker’s displeasure and Calitri’s possible annoyance; Rose couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed or just accepted this from Dieter as part of his… charm. Would have to inquire in private, if she could. Might be a while until she had not only the courage, but at least a work relationship enough to ask.

Calitri’s desk had been (mostly) cleared, and various boxes of takeaway Chinese food, rice, and disposable plates and spoons and forks took the place of order tickets and plans for projects. “Food,” grunted Riker, starting to help himself, ignoring the pointed stares from both Calitri and Dieter. He shovelled food onto his plate, but Rose only shrugged it off.

“Rose, help yourself,” Calitri said, “though I would watch yourself when Riker’s around food, he’s quite skilled with… close combat.” The term was clearly carefully chosen; Rose suspected it was both a warning and a clue toward whatever it was Calitri did under the table.

It took several minutes before Riker stepped back from the table; it looked like a good third of the food now laid heaped on his plate. “Some of us don’t need to eat all of our food for a day in one meal,” Dieter joked, but even his tone seemed a little bit… nervous.

“Well.” Rose finally stepped forward and put some food on her plate: rice and lemon chicken and some stir-fried veg. Dieter and Calitri both followed suit with their food. Riker, Dieter, and Rose sat in the naugahyde chairs someone had brought in, only of moderate change from the ones Rose had seen during her interview. “Good food. Thanks.” 

“We order from this place a lot,” Dieter said, “so if there’s something you like, just tell us.” While his mannerisms were a departure from his hulking appearance, his table manners certainly were not. Rose focussed her eyes on her own food rather than giving any consideration instead, else she felt tempted to vomit. “So how’d you meet Riker here? He seemed pretty keen on you.”

Riker gave what almost sounded like a snort. “When someone is of any intelligence, they’re worth consideration.”

“Thanks?” Rose managed, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“What Riker means,” Calitri interrupted, “is that he’s an impeccable judge of character at first glance and he knew you would fill a necessary gap in our project here. The legal one, I mean.”

Riker nodded in echo of his boss’s statement. “Your friend Shareen is going nowhere fast.”

“Believe me, that’s not news,” Rose replied, and Calitri raised an eyebrow. “Shareen’s flighty and she’s good with people but her actual skills at things aren’t exactly A-levels.”

“And your skills are A-level?”

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, shaking her head instead. “Not exactly a stellar student,” she managed.

Riker smirked (well, as much as a stoic, greasy-haired, dark-aura man could smirk). “But you’re clever. Different way than Shareen. Want something more than she does.”

She gave a nod. “Shareen’s got such a good head about dealing with people. I’m just sort of average, got nothing that great going for me. Thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ back for my A-levels though." 

“Would advise against it, now,” Dieter said, “where’s it going to get you?”

“Can’t hurt, all Jimmy Stone’s fault, but kinda wanna prove somethin’ to myself,” she said, between mouthfuls of food. “He’s an ex. I just wanna… Make something of me.”

“Working a desk job doesn’t really make something of a person,” Dieter mused aloud, before realising it probably wasn’t the best statement to make. “I mean…”

Calitri shook his head. “Just keep your mouth shut, Dieter.” With a dry laugh, “sometimes you need a dull starting-off point to figure out what to do to make something of yourself.”

 

 

After several weeks the four fell into a routine: Calitri worked on his woodworking (and illicit activities, of course), Riker being the attitude, Dieter the muscle (and delivery driver – she’d found a large lorry that made periodic arrivals and departures, and found out through a lunch with Dieter that he drove deliveries for the local orders), and her own office filing. Once or twice a week Rose stayed late and they had takeaway, usually Chinese but once in a while, Riker would appear with the most delicious Indian food Rose had ever had. A few weeks in, someone would bring drink. Rose would accept one now and then, but only when she knew her mother’d gone out and she wouldn’t have to face the annoying questions of why she’d gone drinking after work.

“Rose.” She snapped up at her desk, working on entry of some numbers from a spreadsheet of dubious handwriting. Calitri stood in the doorway, his one-piece jumpsuit unzipped and the top hanging off at his waist, a black t-shirt revealed. “You have a moment?”

“Uh yeah, sure,” she said, hitting the save function on the computer and shuffling the printouts into a single stack. “What is it?”

He finally entered the office and closed the door behind him, sitting on the edge of her desk. “Wanted to talk to you about something. How’re you enjoying the job?”

Rose considered it for a moment. Since her arrival, now just over two months ago, she’d gone through all of the boxes, all of the loose files, and organised everything else she’d come across. She’d taken on taking calls, entering orders, and just last week had been entrusted with deposits. Though the amount of cash she’d seen in the bag could not remotely be what was taken in from just the cabinets he made, Rose remained in the dark and had only to drop the envelope in the overnight deposit box.

And perhaps in her best stroke of work, she’d gotten Dieter to clean the bathroom daily. Rose quite approved of her use of feminine wiles, though it more had been due to Dieter’s little crush on her; Riker had actually been the one to acknowledge it. (Calitri himself found it fairly amusing, but after a drink one night, admitted he’d originally put Dieter on bathroom duty because his overly-friendly personality might have “caused trouble”. Dieter had tried shoving it off on Riker, but when Rose came, Riker made a suggestion that, since Dieter had an obvious little crush, Rose should try to get Dieter to actually do the cleaning. Calitri had often wondered what other dirty jobs Rose could convince Dieter to take on, but Rose hadn’t really moved on that idea just yet.)

“I think I really like it here. Got the hang of things, got all the past work caught up, it’s great, really.”

“Not thinkin’ of leaving or anythin’?”

“No,” she started, but her eyebrow quirked. “Are you about to tell me my job’s about done?” She straightened up in her seat, for the first time actually concerned about it. “I mean I like it here…”

Calitri stood up, raking a hand in his hair, a few stray curls of sawdust shaking free. “I had a bit of a proposal for you.” He frowned, as if already prepared for her rejection. “I know you’ve been very vocal about not joining the back end of things.”

“Would rather not get myself into trouble like that,” she remarked.

He smiled at that. “Well aware. But now I’m in a spot of trouble, Rose Tyler, and I think you might be the only person who can help. But,” he said, turning to look at her properly, “I’m not going to force you, and neither will I beg you for it.” 

Rose fought the immediate instinct to shake her head and refuse, but in the time she’d spent with her boss – one night after a few drinks and some good food, he’d insisted on her calling him Ray – she held back. He wouldn’t have asked her without some good reason, and while she wouldn’t really call him a “friend” he had looked out for her on more than one occasion. “Why do I get the feeling that if I say anything remotely like I agree to it, I’ll get myself into some trouble.”

“Because you’re absolutely right.”

Rose had wondered how long it might take for him to ask. And she’d decided quite quickly that she’d wanted nothing to do with it. But, perhaps… it couldn’t hurt to at least have some idea what she was avoiding. “What…exactly is it that you do, then?”

“Tell me Rose Tyler, what is the most trouble you’ve gotten yourself into?” 

She paused. “Would you believe I ran off with a total stranger to save the world?” 

“You want me to believe you joined forces with a superhero or something?” He seemed almost amused as he leaned against her door, fixing her with a look.

“I…” She paused. “On second thought, you wouldn’t believe me if I said so.”

“What, abducted by aliens?”

“Some…thing… like that,” she replied. He definitely caught the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. “I’ve done some stupid things, I guess.”

Calitri only chuckled, as if he’d let Rose believe that he believed her. “Hitched a ride with an alien or something? Well. Not nearly as fun, but, if you’re still looking for a way to make something of yourself…”

“Well, tell me what exactly it is you do.” He looked like a child at Christmas when the words finally left her mouth. “You look entirely too thrilled.”

His grin widened. “C’mon.” She followed him out of the office and over to his own office; she didn’t miss the click of him locking the door after their entry. “Sit down at the computer. Open up the Documents folder and pull up the spreadsheet with yesterday’s date,” he directed; she did as he asked as he pulled up a chair to sit beside her.

The spreadsheet loaded, and Rose knew one look at this changed her involvement. Somehow, she found herself unable to look away. The spreadsheet contained some twenty columns of information, and sixty or so rows of information that… “Wait. What does any of this mean? None of it makes sense, it’s coded right?” 

“Clever. Of course it is. At first glance, it doesn’t make much sense.” After some clarifications, explanations of codes, and a few photos of some goods in question, he asked, “So what does it look like to you?”

As things clicked into place, Rose’s hand rose, covering her mouth for a moment. “It’s an order sheet.”

“Spot on.”

“So are you making the orders, or filling them?” she asked, marvelling over a handful of other spreadsheets she’d opened, awestruck at the volume (now that she understood the coding). “This is crazy.”

Calitri smiled. “A bit of both, actually. I take in orders, and then I take on people who will supply me what I need. I’m quite selective of whom I work for, and who works for me. While I know many people,” he explained, “never connect anyone twice. It’s how you get caught,” he almost laughed.

Rose nodded. “That…actually makes sense,” she agreed. “So what exactly do you need my help doing?”

“Records. Coding. Maybe taking a few calls, making a few, to fill out the sheets. Maybe meet a few of ‘em when they stop by. You wouldn’t have to actually arrange anything or follow up on any, just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

She blinked at his words, and looked again at the spreadsheets. “I just…” Rose cursed silently under her breath. “I’m gonna guess the deposits I’ve been making are not just the woodworking business profits.”

“Surprisingly, most of it is legal. Money for this is all under the table. You’ve got a better head for numbers than you think, Rose, and until I saw what you’ve been doing lately, where you started to now… I could really use your hand in this. You could make a good deal from it. And,” he shrugged, “I know you’ve been napping at your desk because you’ve clearly worked through enough of the job and there’s not enough to fill a day’s work.”

_Oops._ “Sorry.”

He shrugged it off. “So tell me what you think. Are you interested? You’ll make more than your mate Shareen, still have time to sleep at your desk, and it’d be a good pay rise.”

“What…are Riker’s and Dieter’s parts in all of it?” She could barely believe she’d asked that question, but, in for a penny, in for a pound, she knew. “Enforcers or somethin’?”

“Riker’s muscle. Let’s say he… takes care of problematic clients.” Rose almost snorted. “Dieter, he’s… generally he’s in charge of delivering the product and taking payment. A lot of what they do for the cabinetry gig, they do for this, too. If it tickles you, would desperately ask your help to balance those books, as I think someone’s been short-changing me.”

Rose sat back in his chair, scratching her head as she took in everything she’d just learnt. “I knew you weren’t joking about this being a front for your illegal activities,” Rose began, still settling on the words in her head, “but I had no _idea_ it was at this scale.” 

“The woodworking brings in probably £80, £100 grand a year, gross, before paying for materials. My actual salary is a joke. But I can bring that in in a month, easily, with this.” Calitri shook his head, as if in slight awe of his own talents. “It’s all second to the woodworking, that’s the labour of love, but I can’t say the extra money’s a hardship. 

“What do you even do with so much money?” Rose asked, before immediately realising what she’d asked. “Sorry. Don’t have to answer that.”

He shook his head. “To be honest? I don’t have a clue. There’s a lot of money just sitting there. I live well, but I can’t live too well, first sign to tip off the police is a sudden change in living standards. Someone starts buying nice suits, fancy cars, expensive jewellery, huge homes, extravagant vacations? Especially someone with a small business? Police would be alerted and come sniffing round. So what can I do?” Calitri straightened up in his seat and looked at Rose. “Any questions?”

“What’s the worst I could get if I got caught up in this?”

“Probably five, ten years,” he answered honestly, “though probably could cut that sentence shorter if you squealed on us. On me, really.”

“You’ve just shown me enough to run to a police station and turn you in. What makes you so sure I’m not going to do that now? Or that I’d get involved?”

Raymond Calitri looked at her with a knowing smile, before sighing. “I don’t, you know. Taking a chance. Just had a feeling about you. If you don’t want to, I’m not going to force you. But… I ask you again, Rose Tyler. Are you willing to help me out of a spot of trouble?”

Rose took in a breath. “Let’s start tomorrow.”


	6. Inclination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose starts learning the ropes. Calitri falls behind. Rose takes charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what broke me in learning a ridiculous amount about carpentry and woodworking terms. I am so sorry, it is relevant to the plot, it is necessary. It's not much, it's explained, so please bear with me.

When Rose arrived the next morning, the warehouse seemed to be at a standstill; rather than the familiar sound of power tools or even hand tools, movement in general seemed absent. She came into the warehouse and found the lights off, front garage doors down, and the only lights coming from Calitri’s office. “That you Rose Tyler?” came a voice from the office. “Come on over.”

Rose recognised Calitri’s voice quickly and changed course, heading to his office. She found he’d set up her computer beside his own, and a few binders that looked no different to the other binders set up in his office (Rose had surmised they contained blueprint plans, measurements, and all kinds of things related to the actual woodworking business). There wasn’t really a smart reason to keep anything from his illicit work in the main office; she’d half-expected that he’d store things like that in her office in the binders that had slowly begun to migrate into her space.

At least he’d been kind enough to put in more bookshelves.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” He set down a mug of coffee, and it occurred to Rose she’d never actually been in early enough to catch him before work. “Didn’t think you a coffee drinker.”

“After last night, I am for today, at least. Help yourself,” he said, motioning toward the coffee maker he’d also brought in. She shook her head and he motioned to the chair beside his, where she quickly sat herself. “Hopefully I’ve got this right. I’m not any good with these things.”

Rose glanced at Calitri’s desktop and it looked terrible, like what she imagined it would be like if her mum had a computer: icons everywhere, no rhyme or reason or order, and things completely in shambles. She bit her tongue at commenting on it, but it didn’t pass his observation. (How had she missed that yesterday? She blamed other windows covering it up.)

“Dieter comes in and cleans things up for me once a week, I’ve never gotten it figured out. It’s one of those things that makes no sense to me, like, like that American baseball thing,” he remarked. “After seeing your computer, I think this is going to be a lot better than I could ever do.”

_Baseball thing? What?_ “We’ll see about that,” Rose managed. She’d tossed and turned last night, agonising about her decision. Not a word to her mum, not to Shareen, not to Mickey… Around two she had gotten up, looking at her mobile, and found an unread message from Shareen: “Time to make a move!” She knew it was related to Shareen and her decision to, how’d she put it? Up her game with these evening talking parties in clubs, which if she wanted, that was fine but… Rose, in her exhaustion, felt like the message was some explicit permission. She fell asleep almost instantly with a wicked grin, after that. “So what’s going on?” 

Calitri turned away and picked up a stack of papers, a good several inches thick, all in disarray. “First, I copied over all the spreadsheets for the last several months – about a year – that would go with all these papers.” He handed her the stack in question. “Just like entering the order tickets before. Moved your computer in here, though.”

“Why’s that?”

He had the look of a slightly chastised child. “Was working on some cabinet doors last night and shorted the circuit your office is on. Have an electrician coming today to fix it, so you’ll work in here today.”

“Riiiight.” She found herself less uneasy about the sudden office rearrangement that she’d first felt. 

“This’ll put my orders behind if they don’t get it settled by lunch,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Hadn’t realised Riker had put several things on that circuit and… Reminds me I need to get a new fire extinguisher.” 

“That bad?”

“There’re scorch marks up the wall near your office.” He seemed properly chagrined. “I’ve got a delivery of fresh timber coming in today, on top of everything else.” Calitri rolled his eyes. “Rose, I trust you’ve got this in hand.”

“Definitely,” she said; it really was everything she’d already been doing, only different content. “You all right?”

He gave a sigh. “The outage is putting me behind. I have a lot to get done and this is probably—” He stopped, hearing a banging on one of the garage doors. “I hope that’s the electrician, not the timber. Riker and Dieter are clearing the storage room and organising it, in hopes the new delivery will fit…”

Rose’s face twisted into a grin. “You want me to go give it a look and direct ‘em?”

His eyes widened, as if considering her offer. He turned away and pulled a printout from a manila folder, putting it in her hand as he stood up to exit his office (and hopefully, cease the incessant banging on the garage door). “Here’s what’s coming in, and…” he pointed at a green binder, the word “Inventory” scrawled on the spine, “that’s what we’ve got in there. Current as of yesterday, if Dieter’s to be believed. Go on.” He left the office and walked to the front of the warehouse, where Rose peeked out and saw him manually raising the garage door. The electricians, thankfully.

Rose picked up the inventory binder and began looking at the order arriving today, before hurrying over toward the storage room. Several overhead fluorescent lights lit the room almost enough for Rose to need to squint. “Hello?”

A few pieces of wood fell to the floor in a clatter. “That you, Tyler?”

“Yeah, Dieter, it’s me, um, I just got tasked by Calitri to help organise the room?” A few moments after, Riker and Dieter came into view. “Morning.”

Riker made a gruff sound. “Put you in charge?”

“Somehow,” she replied, shaking her head. “Look, this is what’s coming in. We need to make this place fit everythin’.”

He took the order sheet from her, and surveyed the room. “It’s not going to fit.”

“We have to make it fit,” she said, “and we’re going to make it fit. Dieter!”

“Yes?” The hulkster came forward. “Let me see… I think if we move around…” Rose didn’t quite understand what he meant, but he started to try and point to things and where to move them. Rose shrugged and finally gave him carte blanche to do what he wanted – it was far easier than actually attempting to understand what each cut of wood was, frequency of use, and all the other intricacies with which she hadn’t yet been acquainted. It made sense to her, at least, that they organise things in here, since she had no earthly idea what she was doing.

Riker seemed utterly nonplussed to take direction from either Dieter or Rose; however, he also seemed aware of the subtle shift of power in the room. As he began moving things, he’d periodically make suggestions – “Keep that C16 apart from the CLS and scants!” “Stop dropping the 6.1s, get them in the right corner!” – and Rose began getting her own schooling in the timber business. (Dieter, she noted, could usually hold his own when it came to suggestions, but the squabbling between them over the quarter- and rift-sawn cuts in the same spot…)

Rose stepped out of the room and shook her head, taking a breath to clear her head. The storage room was overwhelmingly heavy with scents of pine, oak, and a host of other woods, and it was giving her a bit of a headache. “You got them working?”

She looked up at Calitri, approaching. “Oh yeah, crackin’ that whip,” she replied, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced of her own work. “Sorry, bit of a headache, not used to all that wood smell,” she admitted. “What even IS a scant? Or a 6.1?”

“Scant is used in carpentry, wood for studs in building mostly. 6.1 is a very common cut of base timber, 6.1 metres long with various section widths…” Rose stared, clearly not understanding, and he shook his head. “Just know they’re types of wood. They’re doin’ re-wiring now, should be done in an hour.”

“That’s good, not too horribly behind?”

He almost snorted. “Depends on how long they actually take.” Calitri motioned for her to follow and they went back into the storage room. “Dieter! Riker!” Another tumble-crash of wood.

“They did that when I came in earlier,” Rose grinned.

“For two hulks you’d be surprised. Riker’s got a terrible fear of mice.” Rose’s eyes widened. “There aren’t many, just once in a while. Worry more about the rats,” he said, waiting for Riker and Dieter to emerge. “How’s it?”

“You’re getting in a lot of planks and sheets today, right? I think we have enough space for the new stuff. You got that order with the wardrobe next week? Keepin’ that wood up front." 

“Good. Riker, update the inventory. Dieter, need you to head out to the… other distributor and verify the delivery tonight.” Rose wasn’t blind to the fact that Dieter’s task had nothing to do with cabinets or wood delivery. “Rose, I need you to call up our hardware suppliers. I’m running short on a lot of screws and hinges. Left the numbers and order requests on my desk, could you get them to deliver by Friday? If we get discounts, up the order amounts.” Calitri turned around and exited the storage room, and by the annoyed, loud tone of his next statement, neither Rose nor Dieter nor Riker wanted to know who had made him angry.

Riker disappeared with the green notebook, and Dieter made some statement of him getting to the distributor’s, so Rose slipped out as well to start calling the suppliers. She settled in the chair in front of her computer and started to pull up the directory of suppliers, glancing over the scrawled list of what Calitri wanted ordered. After jotting a few things down, and looking over the suppliers’ particular requirements and the previous invoices, she picked up the phone and had started to dial when Calitri came into the office, slamming the door and letting out an angry sound.

She dropped the phone and nearly squealed out of fear. Mid-curse, Calitri turned to see her there. “Oh, lord, Rose. Didn’t see you there.” 

“Sorry?” she squeaked out, still feeling her heart racing. “It’s fine…”

“I’m close to killing the timber supplier, for the delivery today. Also found out my men in France got run out. And still this stupid mess…” He raked his hand in his hair, then slammed a fist against the wall by the doorjamb. “Fuck.”

Rose stood up after hanging up the receiver and walked to him, looking at his hand. She gently raised it to the light, fingertips running over the creases and bends of his hand as he flexed his joints. He hissed lightly, but it didn’t seem like there would be lasting damage. (Not that Rose knew all that much about injuries, but the bruising was not horrible; somehow tending to Jimmy Stone’s injuries after fights was coming into use.) “Doesn’t look broken at least.”

His eyes narrowed and he took back his hand, but after a moment he relaxed, more than slightly irritated. “Could use a drink,” he finally said, pushing back from the wall and walking around his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out two shot glasses and some amber-coloured liquid, which Rose couldn’t identify at the outset. Calitri poured it out and offered her a glass, and she took it, tossing it back quickly as did he. The burn of her throat made her groan, but it passed, and she looked at her boss, who seemed to be downing a second shot. “Why is good help so hard to find?”

“Good help?”

“Maybe… reliable. Got a crew running some heists for me down on the French coast and a few of the lower level ones got caught. French police chased my group out of the country. I’m sending them to the States, see if they’ve got anything there. I know there are a few excellent boost jobs but I’m not aware the status of things, who runs what… Sending some to the East Coast, some down to Florida, maybe to LA…”

Rose sat in her chair and looked at Calitri, consideration whirring in her mind. Obviously she’d remained in the dark regarding some of his angry outbursts, or when he and the men took in deliveries or made their own. Particular statements made more sense now, naturally, but she still knew she only had scratched the surface. “I didn’t realise you were that international.”

“I’ve got a few plans coming up, you got a passport?”

“A passport? I can’t afford going out of the country.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, Rose Tyler. I asked if you had a passport.” She swallowed and nodded. “Where’ve you gone?”

She laughed. “Err, you’ll laugh but Shareen and I, we got sent home from a school trip to France…” He did indeed laugh. “Got a little more careful, but, yeah, I’ve got a passport." 

“Is it valid? You interested in a trip in a few weeks?” Calitri seemed to be sizing her up. “I more need someone on my arm. Not bait. A cover. Couple of days, see LA, sound like something you’re interested in?" 

It seemed utterly ridiculous and completely impossible. What on earth was he thinking? She didn’t actually know much about him – he looked probably mid-30s, and he clearly cleaned up with his money, so if he could help her clean up…it wouldn’t look strange, she figured. And they were British. The Americans know nothing about England but the Royal Family and bad mockeries of their accents and football, right? “It sounds like fun.”

“Excellent.” He turned away, putting away the liquor and the shot glasses, after wiping them both clean, and when tidied, he looked her over once more. “Ever wanted to go to LA?”

She shrugged; the thought had crossed her mind years ago, as a starry-eyed child dreaming of a better future. “Maybe? Hadn’t thought about it in years, but what little girl wouldn’t want to be a big star in LA?” Rose gave a half-hearted laugh. “Pretty sure I’ve accepted all I’m gonna be is a shopgirl or, well, now a file clerk,” she added, shrugging.

Despite her self-deprecating, Calitri shook his head. “Don’t sell y’self short,” he said, licking his lips. “You’ve got a clever head on your shoulders, Rose Tyler. Got a good life ahead of you. Almost feel a bit guilty gettin’ you in on this.”

“Why did you, then?” She pushed blonde hairs out of her eyes, tucking some behind her ear.

“Can’t really explain it, but just felt like the right thing to do.”

“Right thing?” she laughed, slightly amused. “The right thing to do was get me involved in somethin’ illegal.”

His forehead creased, but his tone remained easy and light. “You can’t say you weren’t curious. And I did offer you every chance to say no.”

Calitri was right, he had given her every chance, and she’d jumped in. “All right, all right,” she agreed. “So, LA in a few weeks?”

“Bring your passport in tomorrow, get your flights booked for you. Will let you know the dates when I book it.” He leant back in his chair, eyes falling closed. “I can’t help but feel like things are going to look up from here.”

_Certainly looking some sort of way_ , Rose thought, returning her attention back to the orders she needed to make, though ordering door hinges and screws and cabinet handles was an abrupt change from having a drink mid-morning at work with your boss.

 

A few days later, on Friday afternoon, Rose was signing for one of the deliveries (this one should be the hinges, she thought, given what else had already arrived throughout the day) when Dieter yelled across the warehouse. She finished reading over the manifest as Dieter took the deliveryman back into the hardware storeroom. “Tyler!”

She turned around, noticing Calitri over at one of his saws, fitting together two pieces via a rabbit joint. “Yeah boss?”

“Got a moment?” She hurried over, and he motioned to a stack on the floor beside him. “I need to get these pieces joined together, like this one.” Rose nodded and began to start fitting the joints as he did. His voice dropped as he spoke, an eye absently on the delivery company workers. “You free after work this evening? Need to talk in private about something.”

“Sure,” she answered, matching his quiet tone. “Is this about… y’know?” 

He tilted his head, a look of faint annoyance. “Clearly. The tickets are booked for LA in three weeks’ time. But this isn’t about LA. Something more local.” He finished with the last pair of joints and added, in a hurried whisper, “My office when you clock off.”

Rose gave a nod and as she was dismissed, she briefly chatted to the deliveryman to confirm the manifest, and soon he left. She turned toward her office and settled in her seat, looking at her computer blankly while processing the payment for the hinges. Unfortunately, the pull of daydreaming about LA distracted her just enough to almost screw up the payment.

After receiving the confirmation of payment receipt, she printed the receipt and looked at the clock. Two hours until clocking off. The afternoon was going to go quite slowly, she groaned, but when a knock at her door interrupted her sigh, she had a feeling that she might be wrong. Dieter smiled. “Hey Rose, you got a moment? Need you to come verify arrival of the hinges in the storeroom for the inventory.”

“Where’s Riker?”

“Other business,” he said, “and you don’t look busy. Might as well get it done. Calitri’ll want it done before we clock off.”

“I’ll come in a minute, need to close out the order ticket.” Dieter nodded, but he didn’t move. “Y’don’t have to wait for me.”

He smiled. “I got nothin’ better to do.”

“Look, just go on, I’ll be there in a mo’.” Rose frowned, rather annoyed as she stood, retrieving the printout and moving to a binder on the near bookshelf. “Dieter, seriously.”

It didn’t seem to deter him. Or he was just that thick, Rose wasn’t completely sure. “Hurry on then.” He shrugged and turned, but the quick end of his footfalls on the warehouse floor indicated Dieter couldn’t have gone far. Rose filed the paper quickly and stepped out into the warehouse, and Dieter stood only a few feet away. “Ready?”

“You act like I can’t get myself to the storeroom, Dieter,” she answered, rolling her eyes as she snapped up the inventory book from Dieter’s hands to see what had been entered into the chart, since she’d have to update the electronic version after this.

Rose followed Dieter to the storeroom and he led her to the drawers of hardware, showing her the new packages against the previous stock, and Rose made her updates to the notebook. After a few minutes, Dieter slipped down a few drawers and pulled out a small stack of papers. “Latest order for the jewels,” he said, sliding it in the back of the inventory notebook. “Calitri wants the order prepared so he can get someone to supply it, needs it done as soon as possible. Today before clocking off.”

She let out a breath, relieved her intuition of Dieter and untoward intentions had been incorrect. “Got it.” Rose closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “It’s been a day, sorry.” Dieter had a lack of social skills, so she chalked it up to that, but it had gotten her a bit on edge. “How big is this order?”

“It’s close to £40,000, I think. I haven’t looked it over, just what I saw peeking in. Riker’s other business is dealing with the French arm that Calitri’s now got to get rid of. Replacing them… stupid of ‘em to get caught.” 

“Yeah, you’d think you’d take more caution.” Rose finished marking the new inventory. “I’ll go get this done, enter the new numbers and run this order.”

“I’ll tell him it’s in. Lock the papers in Calitri’s office when you’re done.” He glanced down at his wrist, and rolled his eyes. “I need to run, meetin’ the girlfriend’s parents tonight at dinner.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend?” Rose blurted, a bit surprised.

“Trust me, I clean up pretty good,” he replied, giving her a smile before leaving her in the storeroom.


	7. Predilection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner “date”! More about the LA plan! Rose gets plucky and a bit sassy! A little bit more into the nuts and bolts of the jewels boosting, but we’re on a roll.

At five on the dot, the power saw powered down, and Rose heard the garage door mechanism start up. Clocking off time, she mused, finishing up the order sheet for the jewels. The order was for nearly £50,000 of sapphires and blue diamonds for a Greek dealer, and evidently the trip to LA centred around this particular deal: they were going shopping for jewellery to determine a number of locations in the city with possible leads on easy – shady – access to the jewels of choice. 

Rose had no doubt the various parties were all criminal associates in competing scam rings, but she didn’t want to dwell on that thought too long.

"Tyler!"

"In the office!" she yelled back, printing the order form after hitting save. "Printing."

“Right. G’night,” she heard Calitri say, clearly to someone else, and moments later the closing of the side door and throwing of the deadbolt lock. His footsteps turned and approached his office. “Keepin’ your computer in here? I can have Dieter or Riker move it tomorrow.”

“I can move it,” Rose replied, offering him the printouts. “The order, Dieter said you wanted it today.”

He snatched it from her hand and looked over it, a smug smile crossing his features for a moment. “Perfect, Rose. Just perfect.”

Rose couldn’t help her own smirk. “First name only basis now?” His smug went a bit sheepish, but it didn’t falter. “So what’s this we need to talk about? You said it wasn’t about LA?”

Calitri walked over and sat in his chair, leaning back, lacing his fingers together across his chest. “It is, and it isn’t. You’re still in? Not backing out on me, are you?”

“No, definitely not. Looking forward to that trip, you have no idea.” Rose hit save on a file and closed out the opened programmes on her desktop before shutting the whole machine down. “Not sure how I’ll break the news to mum, but.” She waved her hand. “She’ll get the wrong idea, but she always does.”

“Must be a mother thing,” he offered, smiling for a moment. “It crossed my mind last night that there is a lot you don’t know, and probably should.”

“That’s reassuring, just crossed your mind,” Rose replied, not bothering to hide the dripping sarcasm, even accentuating it with an eye roll. She dropped her head back against the chair, then turned her face to Calitri. “So what is it I should know?”

Calitri looked her over, expression neutral, before speaking. “Have you ever gone into a shop, looked at the items contained within, run your fingers over them and relished the sensation?” Rose nodded, though she wasn’t in the least sure where Calitri was heading with this. “Imagine walking into a shop. Every little thing you could ever want, right at your fingertips. Quality, quantity, colour, shape, cut, everything customised to your heart’s whim." 

He stood up and walked over to a clock hanging on his wall, one Rose had spent a good time admiring today during her work. “You made that?” she asked, though she was sure the answer.

“I did. Project years ago now. Father helped with some of it, but, my first project.” His fingers graced the clock with a loving reverence one might take with a lover or a child. “Clockwork, gears with precision timing and every tiny piece built to specification.” He moved his hand as the clock made a soft chime at the quarter hour. “Could’ve ordered this. Spent hundreds, a thousand pounds on something like this, if not more.” He turned to Rose, the clock’s quiet ticks filling the empty space of the room. “I’m a middleman, in a way. I get orders. I find a way to fulfil them. I’m hired by one company, I hire another to fill my order. Anything from expensive jewellery to precious metals, computer electronics to robotics, fast cars, haute couture… I find someone willing to fill my order, pay them a fraction of what I’m paid to procure it. Literally anything can be procured at the right price.”

Rose opened and closed her mouth a few times to speak, but finally stopped; whatever she’d expected to learn, it was not exactly this. “At least you’re not kidnapping people… you’re not, are you?”

“No. I draw a line at human trafficking.” 

“Con man with a conscience.”

“You are still in my employ you know,” he reminded her, unnecessarily. “Could dock your pay for mouthing off.”

She simply grinned, tongue peeping out from behind her lips and teeth. “Somehow I don’t think you would.”

Calitri closed the space from the wall to Rose’s chair; Rose felt absolutely pinned in place by the gleam in his blue eyes. “That is entirely part of why I invited you to LA. That attitude.”

“Not because I’m gorgeous?” _Don’t push it, Tyler._

“Clever women think on their toes. Got very lucky you’re a mix of cleverness and sex appeal,” he replied, voice smooth. “Your eye for detail is desperately needed. Riker and Dieter are clumsy, heavy-handed. Couples are much less easily targeted by the police in these schemes,” he explained. “And I’m certain you could develop an eye for jewellery, real versus fake, more quickly than I could.”

She managed a nod, and felt his eyes soften; Rose shifted with slight discomfort in the chair. “So, this LA trip, you want me to fawn over jewels and identify which are real and which aren’t?”

“Engagement jewellery shopping,” he finally said. “The order you prepared, got a supplier in Frankfurt. Wants his hands on some blue diamonds and some sapphires. Got some books coming in over the weekend, from Monday you’ll be learning everything there is to know about the difference between real and fake at a glance. One of my men is out there already, found a few shops capable of supplying me with the order. Doesn’t trust most of them for real gems, wants me to send someone out to check without arousing suspicion. They don’t know my face, so we’ll have assumed names on these runs.” Rose had surmised as much. “You like blue stones?" 

“I do now.”

He chuckled; with that sound the almost black aura around him seemed to lift. Perhaps, she thought, her agreeing to this, her knowing more and exchanging teasing barbs, had relaxed him. It did mean a lot for him to rely on essentially a stranger, given the volume he seemed to be dealing in, and at the prices… “Good. At some point next week I’ll give you my card, you’ll need to buy a few outfits for this trip.”

“I’ve got money, you know.” _Not really, some, but…_

“Rose, you’re going to enjoy some spoils in this. Think of it as a bonus to your job.” _Well, if you insist._ “I’ve got a few other things I’ll need you to do, but I’ll let you know once this has gotten underway.”

“Right, yeah,” she replied. “Always wanted to see LA.”

“You will now.” Calitri glanced at his wrist. “Got time tonight? Want to get dinner?”

She blinked, glancing at her work clothes. “Haven’t got time to run home and change have I?”

“No need. I know some places. You like burgers and chips?” She lit up, and he grinned. “Isn’t much time to make our personas, might as well start now. You haven’t got a boyfriend have you?” 

Rose shook her head. Mickey was the furthest thing from her mind. And given the rumours from Shareen that he was possibly seeing someone else, well… “I’m unattached.” 

“Perfect. Place is a short walk down the street, need to wash up first?” Calitri pulled a casual jacket from a hanger over the office door, glancing at Rose as he pulled it on.

“Ready to go.”

 

The diner down the street was tucked away enough that a glance walking past it, a passer-by wouldn’t even know it was actually open, much less a place providing American-style greasy spoon burgers and fries, and on certain days when the machine worked, thick milkshakes. It even looked like something out of the 1950s: black and white tile floors, naugahyde booths and stools at the counter, vinyl records on the walls, and topped off with a little stereo in a corner playing some American ‘50s music. Rose noticed Calitri wasn’t necessarily thrilled by the décor of the place, but it was nestled away and the owner seemed quite unsurprised when Calitri had come in asking for ‘the usual’ seating arrangement. Rose’s suspicions were confirmed shortly after.

“He’s a long-time friend and associate. Use the diner sometimes as an import cover,” he offhandedly mentioned, passing her a menu. “See the cabinets over there, and the china cabinet near the front? Made those for him. His mum came from Italy in the 50s and married an American expat here. His dad loved making burgers and chips, so they bought this place when the original owners went under. Turned it around, but its location… isn’t exactly on the high street,” he said, though Rose knew immediately it was code for “the food’s good but the clientele are rather unscrupulous, so it’s a secret.”

Rose nodded as she looked over the menu, opting for a cheeseburger and an order of chips. “These look huge,” she muttered, looking at the photos beside each blurb. “Utterly ridiculous.”

A laugh came from behind the counter, where the owner was drying drink glasses. The man was slender, no muscles to speak of, salt-and-pepper hair with dark brown eyes – the sort of person you saw every day and never would give a second glance to, so nondescript. “Americans like everything bigger and better. They’re not nearly as big as they look. The chips though…”

“If anything, Eric here makes some of the best chips in London.”

“Comin’ from you, Ray, that’s a high honour.” _Oh, so there_ are _people on a first-name basis with him._ “Who’s this lucky lady?”

“Believe it or not, found someone who’s got my office running in shape now.” He turned slightly in the chair. “Eric Blume, this is my front desk assistant and organiser extraordinaire, Rose Tyler.”

“How do y’do,” she nodded, voice soft over the jaunty song just starting.

Eric walked around the counter and came to their table, pulling up a chair from another one nearby, sitting with (but not quite joining) them. “Good to meet you. Hey, you’re the bird I chatted with last week about ordering a table, aren’t you?”

She quickly racked her brain. “Yeah, you wanted the oak stain with the flared legs, right?”

“Ooh, she’s good Ray, keep her around.” Eric grinned at his statement, elbowing Calitri in the arm. “She your girl?”

“No, she works for me, nothing more, though she’s helping me in both businesses now,” he said, tone clearly measured, though Rose couldn’t figure why. “She’s coming to LA with me end of the month.”

It seemed that mention made Eric sit back, as his tone changed immediately. “On that, actually, good you came in tonight,” he said, almost jumping up and disappearing to the back. “Just a tic!”

Rose looked at Calitri with confusion. “He all right?”

Dropping his voice, “He owes me. Almost thirty grand. He also flirts with any woman crossing his path, legal or not. Man’s terrified of Riker. If I send him here, he knows he’s done something wrong.” In his normal tone, “Eric’s got a few connections and got me my first sale in all this, but once this place started going under and he asked my help, balance of power shifted.” Rose nodded. “Don’t let him touch you. He’s slime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispered, as Eric came back into the dining area. “Thanks for the warning.”

The owner came around and dropped a report binder, A4, 45mm thick, almost as solid as a book. “From Deward. Thought you might want it. Had deliveries today so I didn’t make it over, was bringing it first thing tomorrow. Saves me a trip.”

She knew by the quick look Calitri shot her that he wouldn’t have brought it the next morning, and it would’ve probably shown up a few days later, at the least. Calitri’s tone didn’t betray his thoughts. “Good. Thanks. I’ll have my usual, Rose?”

“Just, just the cheeseburger and chips.”

“Ah, great choices! I’ll fire up the grill,” Eric grinned, his mock American accent almost believable, and Rose tried not to flat-out laugh at the awkward moment.

“He tiptoes round me and tries to sweet-talk me into things but.” Calitri eyed the binder. “He’s got a nasty habit of involvin’ himself with loan sharks. Bet anything he’s falling under them again.” He set the menu in the little stand on the table, shifting it so it didn’t block his view of Rose, then she followed suit. “So tell me about yourself.”

Rose started to give a bare bones explanation of her life to date, a few hobbies, but opted to leave out mention of the whole mess with the Doctor. “So, now, I’m workin’ for you, and, I guess, all that.”

Calitri nodded. He seemed quite interested, and Rose eyed him. “Something on your mind?”

“Yeah, I know nothin’ about you, and in a few weeks we’re playin’ happily engaged." 

“Fair enough.” Calitri looked over toward the kitchen, seeing Eric distracted by his cooking, before returning his gaze to Rose. “I’ve been in woodworking since I was young. Dad’s business, his dad’s, his dad’s too. My nickname’s ‘The Carpenter.’ Obvious reasons.” Rose tried not to snort. “Currently running a racket here and trying to build one out in LA. Had one in France but that’s gone belly up,” he added, “but you knew that. That’s really it.”

She didn’t buy it, not entirely. “C’mon. You’re leavin’ out the juicy details.” 

“About what?” he asked, a bit surprised at Rose’s abrupt delight and pointed request. “You think I’m leaving something out?”

“Yes. How’d you even get into this?”

“Family business,” he answered. “I didn’t just mean about the carpentry.” She raised an eyebrow. “Got ‘em all killed, probably will be my end too. But no one goes out in a blaze of glory unless you’re on the wrong side,” he said, practically grinning.

At that, Rose couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. There’s probably a lot I don’t want to know. But.” She stopped, took a sip of her mineral water. “What exactly are our covers in LA?”

“Still thinking about it,” he admitted, but suddenly, “Yes, I think it’s a good idea. Maybe we should get another lamp, it is dark in your office.” Rose only realised the reason for the change as the smell of sizzling meat and perfectly fried chips hit her nose. “Never too many lamps right Eric?”

The owner almost guffawed, as if he was proud of being let in on their ‘private’ conversation. “Never too many! Not worth killing your eyes over, y’know.” No, Rose didn’t know, but she’d at least get a good meal out of this. “Eat up! And Ray, if you and the lady want, the shake machine’s workin’ real well today.”

Rose gave him a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, almost batting her eyes, and Eric slunk back behind the counter. 

The absolute mirth in Calitri’s eyes made it all worth it. “I knew you’d be perfect for this.”


	8. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie learns about the trip, Rose gets to LA, and all the wood puns/innuendo you were waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to fleurdeneuf - for all of the times over the almost-year I’ve known her, she has been encouraging to me about writing and posting, and it was in this chapter I needed it (though she doesn’t know, nor expect it was related to this trainwreck) - and chiaroscuroverse - it was during the writing of this chapter that she helped shape the rest of this story in very significant ways. It also just so happens their birthdays sandwich this chapter. So thank you both of you.

“I’m home mum,” Rose called out as she came into the flat, voice just a bit louder than the soap opera Jackie had playing. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Rose I was so worried!” her mother replied, eyes not leaving the telly for an instant. When it finally broke for a commercial, “Oh good you’re safe.”

“Right. Yeah, mum so for a few days at the end of the month I’m going to be, uh, on a business trip.”

Jackie’s eyes narrowed before almost exploding with curiosity. “A business trip? Rose, you didn’t mention this job requiring travel!”

“I didn’t know it did,” she admitted. “The boss and others of us, we’re going to Los Angeles.” Jackie looked utterly confused. “We’re going to a woodworking convention or something, we’re going to go see some new techniques and probably buy more wood,” Rose quickly added. “My boss has already gotten our tickets, see, so I leave the 27th.”

Her mother seemed sceptical (rightly so, Rose had to at least admit) but she flopped onto the sofa. “Rose, haven’t you considered you’re agreeing to go to another country with someone who’s still a virtual stranger! You don’t know what thoughts men have, Rose! And if you’re in another country they could up and leave you there! I mean there are great celebrity stories over there but you’d miss Eastenders!”

_Her priorities are in the right place…_ Rose shrugged. “Look, mum, it’s not like I’m going to be stranded. He’s got the tickets already. And besides. Didn’t you always want me to see the world, make somethin’ of m’self?”

Jackie didn’t seem any more convinced than when she first mentioned it, but she seemed at a loss for what else to say. “Rose, what were you doing out late with your boss anyway? Is this some sort of date? They say it’s not good to date your boss but he sounds quite rich…” She grinned at her daughter. “So clever of you! Work your way up to the top! Just remember if he lays a hand on you and you don’t like it…”

“Mum!” Rose groaned, pushing up from the sofa. “Calm down. It’s not like there’s anything between us. He’s just my boss. Have you forgotten Mickey?” 

“Oh but you can do so much better than Mickey,” she replied quickly, shifting on the sofa. “Yes, you certainly should be careful, but Rose, live a little!”

“That’s real rich, comin’ from you mum.” Rose huffed, only slightly unsurprised at her mother’s about face for this business trip. “Look, it’s in a few weeks. I’ll get the tickets and let you know, all right? I’m going on this trip. We’re going to look at wood for his projects.”

“Wood? Is that a euphemism?”

“Mum.” She resisted the urge to huff again, though it was quite difficult. “He’s a cabinetmaker, mum. Literally. Cabinets and doors and bureaus and all that,” she replied. “I’m going to bed, mum.”

“We still having lunch on Saturday?”

Rose nodded and went to the kitchen, downing a glass of water before wandering to her bedroom. It had been a long day and somehow she wanted to wash the awkward feeling of Eric and that whole dinner (though, she had to admit, it was a pretty good meal, and Calitri – no, Ray, she remembered; he’d insisted she call him that, in process of “We’ll have to be on a first-name basis for the trip, might as well practice now so we don’t muck it up in LA”) out of her head. She grabbed her sleep clothes and took a shower, more than a little grateful the day was over.

 

A few days passed, work both legal and illegal passing along without remark. On Friday, the day before their departure, a knock came at Rose’s office door as she finished up her additions to the spreadsheet, printing off the final document for their trip. “Rose.”

“Raymond,” she drawled with a smile, watching his eyes roll back a little. “Ray. Printing out the last documents for you, then I’m done.”

“Fantastic.” He stood in the door watching as she gracefully slid her chair across the office, snatching papers, and with a fluid motion known only from repetitive action, hole-punched and filed the documents in a rather nondescript folder, and slid across the floor, wheels gliding to a stop inches from Calitri’s feet. “Thank you.”

Rose gave a tongue-touched grin and slid back to her desk. “All in a day’s work,” she grinned. “So, tomorrow.”

“Week’s worth of clothes, those nice ones we got you last week, and meet here at 7. Have a car taking us to the airport. I’ve got the important things.”

She nodded at him. “Right. I’ll be here.” She started to shut down her computer, and Calitri sat himself on one of the chairs in her office. “Somethin’ on your mind?” 

He was quiet for a while, but finally spoke. “Just a little nervous about this.”

“Nervous about what?” she asked, turning off the monitor. Calitri dropped his head back, blond hair flattening against the wall.

“Honestly?” She nodded. “You, actually. I can only trust you can pull this off. Riker says you’re a liability, from what he saw of you in the clubs.”

She narrowed her eyes a bit. “But you don’t buy it.”

Calitri looked up at the lights, took a deep breath, let it out. “You know he’s slept with your mate Shareen.” Rose’s face held a momentary expression of surprise, disgust, and outrage before it fell and a look of extreme challenge replaced it. “Shareen’s an interesting character isn’t she?”

“What do you know about Shareen, and are you threatening me?”

“A little late to ask such questions, Rose, but.” His blue eyes turned a bit icy, and Rose shivered involuntarily. “When hypothetically posed, Shareen thinks you’d do fine in a heist as long as you don’t talk too much, and no, I am not threatening you.” His voice held an eerie calmness, and he leant forward, eyes not blinking. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

Rose licked her lips, cursing the waver in her voice. “Just fine?”

“You, Rose Tyler, doubt yourself. When you’ve decided you’re going to show someone up, you’re in your element. And that’s exactly what I need.” His gaze still seemed unblinking, and Rose straightened up in her seat. “So as I said. Just fine. Smile, nod, and look gorgeous, that’s all you’ve got to do.” 

“How’s that showing anyone up?” She sat back, almost rolling her eyes.

Calitri smiled. She’d describe it as a little chilling, when thinking back on it later, but at that moment he seemed controlled, as if executing an action with absolute precision. “Shareen thinks you’ve got no chance if you’ve got to keep up the charade for more than one afternoon.”

She rubbed her face, sighing. “Maybe? But I’m going to prove her wrong.” His expression remained unchanged at that, but she absently wondered if she was falling into his trap. At this point it wasn’t enough to change her mind, though she’d considered it more than once. Tomorrow was her D-Day, or something like that. “Looking forward to this?”

“When does the real fun begin?”

“Tomorrow once the hired car arrives, _Lupe_.”

“Lupe?” Rose stared in confusion. “Oh. Oh. Right.”

Calitri laughed. “Already forgetting your assumed name? Lupe Maartens, your parents Dina and David, Raised on the estates but family came into money later in your life. Enjoying the finer things. Mother doesn’t work, father’s a doctor.”

“What does Lupe even mean? Isn’t it Spanish?”

“Translates to wolf. What I think’s inside of you. Your wolfish talents will make this an interesting outing.” Calitri stood up. “Practicing your lovey-dovey epithets?”

“Oh Ray, dahhling,” she drawled, before laughing. _That sounded weird. Maybe not_ that _one._ “I think it’ll be just fine, dearest, not a thing to worry about!” Rose stood and crossed the office as she spoke, flopping into a chair beside him and wrapping her arms around his nearest one, snuggling against him with doe eyes gazing up. “Oh, please, please, that one, it matches your eyes, please?”

Calitri had to catch himself, schooling his face to a neutral, but attempt at romantic, expression. “But you’ve got two of those already, what do you think about this one instead? It sets off your brown eyes so well…” He paused. “I am very much out of practice.”

Rose grinned, nearly smirked, tongue peeping out from the corner of her lips. “Well looks like I’ve got the upper hand here.”

“Until tomorrow perhaps,” he allowed, and stood up, pulling her with him. “Go on home. I need to lock up here and pack. See you ‘round seven.”

As he turned and walked out, Rose bit her lip in an act of self-control. Something in her stirred, and Rose quickly gathered up her things, hurrying home.

And at seven o’clock prompt, Rose found herself with her suitcase and carry bag in hand, knocking at the side door to the warehouse. “Hello?” she called out, after finding the door locked, which seemed a bit unusual.

The door soon opened, and Calitri stood there with a smile. “Morning, love,” he said, leaning in for a cheek kiss. Rather than a kiss, his voice caressed her ear. “It’s on.”

“Was a bit worried when it wouldn’t open,” Rose answered, giving a bit of a meek, but smitten, tone. 

“Sorry, was hoping I’d be out before your arrival. Oh!” He motioned to a Black Cab waiting at the end of the alley, driver now approaching. “Get her bags, would you?” Calitri disappeared inside and reappeared shortly with his own bags, the driver soon taking those to the boot. “Shall we?” Rose giggled and took his arm, leaning into him as they got into the cab.

She remained nestled up to him, through the airport and most of the flight, right down to walking into their hotel room. The moment the door closed, Rose tossed her carry bag onto the bed and walked to the window, throwing open the inner, lighter curtains. “It’s gorgeous out here!”

“Well it’s a good of year time to visit Los Angeles,” he replied, setting his own hand luggage down beside hers, the porter bringing in their suitcases. He pushed a few dollars into the man’s hand and the porter disappeared, and Calitri immediately locked the door behind them. “Well you’ve made it.”

Rose turned around, a glowing smile on her face, the sunlight glinting off her hair. “This is brilliant,” she squealed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Calitri smiled at that, leaning against the wall as he looked her over. “Ah, oh. I forgot about there being one bed.”

“Well, since we’re likely to be entertaining some of the clients here, it would look funny otherwise,” he reminded her. “We’ll figure it out. There’s a couch, possibly a pull out, but two beds look suspicious. Can’t set off any alarms, not with these operatives.” He unbuckled his wristwatch and dropped it onto the desk blotter, moving into the bathroom for a wee. “We’ve got dinner in a few hours, how’re you holding up with the jetlag?”

It seemed the word itself was a trigger; no sooner did it leave his mouth did Rose need to stifle her yawn. “I could use a nap.”

A few moments of silence, a flush, quick sounds of running water. “Have a nap then, Rose.” He finally re-emerged from the toilet, drying his hands on a fluffy, white towel, before tossing it back onto the marble counter. “Dinner tonight is just us, but I know a few future clients of mine frequent this place. So staying in character. Small side trip before, so I need you dressed and ready by five.” A glance at the electronic red numbers on the bedside clock read 2:37. “So you’ve got a while if you want to lie down.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” she agreed. “Can you wake me at four, then?”

Calitri gave a sound of acknowledgment and began digging in his hand luggage for the notebooks and reports Rose had prepared before leaving, and started making a few calls on his mobile as Rose herself flopped onto the king-sized bed and nearly immediately fell into a deep sleep.

 

A few minutes past four Rose had roused, and now, about a quarter past five, Rose and Calitri – rather, Lupe and Ray – were wandering the streets of Los Angeles in a rather specific direction – though, for the moment, Rose remained in the dark on this side errand before dinner. The pair strolled, arm in arm, through the nearby fashionable Rodeo Drive, and after the leisurely stroll, stopped at a mom-and-pop woodworking showroom; hanging from a nail on the door was a sign that read, ‘Viewings, By Appointment Only!” in a cutesy, folksy script. Calitri rapped at the door, and a few moments later, an older man – late 60s, clearly a craftsman by his hands and attire – opened the door.

“Yes, young man, would you be Mister Calitri?”

“Yes. I believe I’m right on time,” he said, nodding at the clock hanging in on the wall, display clearly visible through the display glass. “And you must be Mr Reynaldo?”

The older man smiled, his teeth a bit yellow, the wrinkles of his face seeming to grow as his smile did. “I am! It’s wonderful you made it out. Please, please come in! Can’t keep a lovely lady waiting,” he said, giving Rose a kind wink, hand making a sweeping gesture into the shop. The door closed behind them, the metal tumbler clicking into place, and Mr Reynaldo hurried ahead of them. “And you are, miss?”

Rose caught herself as she spoke. “Lupe, Lupe Maartens,” she said, offering her hand. “Your workshop is amazing.”

The small shop was half-showroom, half-workshop: dozens of hand-crafted products from clocks, to team logo cut-out shapes, to monograms, to tables and chairs and beds, covered the showroom, while the back bore several table saws and tables full of partially completed products, hand tools, and spare bits of wood. Rose realised, even as she listened to the absent chatter of Mr Reynaldo about his workshop, his history, and pieces on the wall, that this side-trip was most likely not part of their undercover mission. In fact…

“You really brought me to this place? How does this have anything to do with the business transactions?” Rose hissed under her breath as Mr Reynaldo scurried off to the back, meeting a woman she presumed was Mrs Reynaldo, preparing a batch of something to drink.

Rather than answer, Calitri moved across the room to a round dinner table, the edges hand-carved with fleurs-de-lis and other similarly-styled floral designs, the chairs arranged around it bore the same design. He bent down on one knee, head turned to the side as he looked at the surface of the table, admiring the finishing, a hand sliding across the mid-table seam where a leaf could be added. “Look at this table. What do you see?” 

She looked across the table, attempting to give a critical analysis, though she surely wasn’t about to give a reaction in line with Calitri’s own personal preferences. “It’s a dark wood, it looks very warm, it’s… sanded down well, quite fancy…”

“Look at the knot in the middle of the table. Along that seam. Look at it.”

“I assume it’d be covered up by a doily or something.”

Calitri gave her a look of confusion. “Why would you cover up something like this? The entire table is designed around that burl, the mass in the middle. Look at the edging, the chiselling. Fishtail chisel, sure of it.” His fingers slid along the cuts. “This is walnut. Always a knotty wood, so many branches cause it. But Reynaldo here, he’s using the knots in the wood, that one in the middle, it’s an encased knot. Usually pounded out or filled in, here he’s made it the centrepiece. And I imagine the leaf in the table is just as carefully designed around it.” Calitri’s fingers slid along the wood.

“You talk so passionately about wood, someone might get the wrong idea,” Rose hinted, but it seemed to fly right past him.

“I’ve never been good enough with a fishtail chisel to get such fine curves, what I wouldn’t give to get my hands on them.”

“I’ve got some curves right here, y’know.”

“I’m not sure I’d have made the choice to split an encased knot, very daring, but he’s got some incredible skill with his hands.” 

“So do a lot of women I know, and men too…” Rose muttered, clearly not as excited by the table as Calitri. “Soon you’ll be telling me he’s got a good grip on his tool when he works.”

At that, he looked up, almost innocently shocked, but Rose had learnt fairly quickly around Calitri he could read the room and, even when things were against him, turn them to his advantage. “Are you going to tell me, darling, that I’m no good with my own hands?”

Her face flushed slightly, but Rose was not going to back down. “Oh I’ve seen those hands doing some incredible rubbing,” she purred, “working on that lovely armoire, polishing those knobs…”

“Going to be some hard wood if you’re not careful,” Calitri muttered, both realising almost a hair too late that Reynaldo had returned. Calitri couldn’t miss Rose standing behind one of the chairs, her fingers lightly flitting over the curves of a fleur-de-lis in a far too suggestive motion. She grinned to herself at the subtle shift of his dinner jacket in front of his slacks.

“This table’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Reynaldo launched into an animated telling of the story of his inspiration and carving of the table, and while Calitri (mostly) paid attention, Rose prided herself that her flirtatious teasing and double entendres did not go unnoticed, except by Reynaldo.

Rose continued feigning interest as Calitri talked about possibly purchasing this table, which in Rose’s defence didn’t seem so special; another table nearby looked much nicer, but he was stuck on that knot. Finally he turned to Rose – much more composed than a few minutes before. “Love, what do you think? It’s your house too.”

“I just…I’m not sure, really, it’s…”

“It would be perfect for entertaining. Especially when your mum comes round for tea.” Rose almost choked. “And it’s sealed, it’s perfect so when you’re working on something and you spill your tea it won’t immediately damage the wood." 

“Scalding coffee on… wood will burn regardless,” Rose pointed out, noting Calitri’s slightly uncomfortable shift of his trousers. “But I think your heart’s set on this one.”

Reynaldo looked quite excited, almost to a point of exploding from happiness. “We can get this sent freight to London, I have some friends who can do it very cheap. You’re paying top dollar for this craftsmanship, but it’ll be taken well care of getting over to you. Unless you’ve got a mansion over here I should deliver to…”

“No, no, it’s going to London,” he assured him, “as we discussed in the original e-mail. Can we look at the underside, see the metalwork?”

“Oh, of course! Let’s flip her over and you can go to town!”

Rose barely made it across the room in time to muffle her laughter. Calitri gave her a pained but amused look in response. Dinner really couldn’t come soon enough for her liking.


	9. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing gets to them, a business deal goes terribly, terribly wrong, and a familiar friend with a new face pops into Rose’s life.

By Wednesday, Rose felt the routine had grown a bit thin. Only so many ways to be a flirty woman enticed by all the jewels in the world. Her mum would’ve done a lot better than she was doing, she knew, but hopefully she was doing well enough. It was more stressful than she was used to, acting above her station. Still determined to show Shareen in this possibly-imagined rivalry, but she was going to get through this successfully.

After dinner that evening, Rose returned to the hotel while Calitri went out to get a few drinks with male colleagues (well, “colleagues” if she were honest about it). She soaked in the bath before changing into a pair of short shorts and a long-sleeved top, which she learnt was necessary after how cold the air con ran, despite any setting they used. She curled up in the bed, sitting up and flipping through the channels, sighing at the lack of anything but commercials and nightly local news. “Oh come on, why isn’t there anything on?”

As she spoke, the door lock activated, and soon the door opened, closing almost as quickly as it opened. “I’m back,” he called out, walking into the sleeping area.

“There’s not a thing on the telly, how is this hotel getting away with this?” Calitri paused in unbuttoning his Oxford shirt and looked over at the television set, staring at it in mild disbelief. “See what I mean?”

“Pay-per-view,” he replied, unbuttoning his braces from his trousers, and freeing his shirt. He paused a moment before his suitcase, pulling out a pair of sweatpants before moving to the bathroom. “Usually that’s the only thing worth watching.”

Rose pulled up the channel guide and watched it scroll through. “Yeah, everything here’s awful.” She tossed the remote to the bedside table, as Calitri emerged from the bathroom, washed up and in his sweatpants, a faint dusting of hair across his chest. “Shirtless tonight, did I do something to deserve this strip show?”

He gave a snort as he pulled back the comforter and sheet, sitting on the bed. “Don’t think I didn’t see you flirting with that boy today. Those doe eyes of yours… you truly are a wolf, aren’t you?”

She laughed, giving a bit of a yawn. “You couldn’t keep your hands off my arse,” she teasingly accused, though it was true. “I haven’t even gotten a proper snog from all this.”

“Gotten designer clothes and handbag, jewellery, and all it would take is a kiss?”

“…Does that make me a cheap date?” Rose put her hand to her hip, looking quite stern, tempered by the amused look in her eyes. “I don’t put out on the first date.”

“You don’t put out at all,” he replied, turning to face her with a self-assured smile.

“And we’re on night… how many of sharing this bed?”

Calitri’s head fell to the side as he considered it. “Fair point… but perhaps I do at least owe you a snog.” Rose was ready to question it, but before the indignation could form words, his body shifted just enough and his lips pressed to hers. Whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it, but for someone she had seen change from clever and almost easy-going to quickly snapping and calling for someone’s blood, the kiss was definitely much better than she expected.

Far, far better than Mickey Smith, at least. Rose felt his hand come up, cupping her face, as his lips teased and tasted at hers, almost playfully. For someone who played mind games, Rose felt she was falling prey to this one all too willingly. His tongue teased over her lips, and she slowly parted her mouth to accept it, eagerly responding when her brain remembered to do so.

Calitri’s hand slid into Rose’s hair, drawing a low groan from her as he deepened the kiss; Rose pressed closer to him in the middle of the bed. Rose slid her hands to Calitri’s neck, nails of one hand digging in the base of his neck as the kiss finally broke. Her eyes had fluttered closed, and slowly opened to meet his gaze. “There you are.”

Her eyes swept over his face and she felt for not the first time that this was the wrong place and the wrong time and the wrong everything, really. He clearly held no interest toward her, outside of what he could use her to get. A mistake, that’s all it was.

Rose’s body disagreed, but she knew that was simply because she was around a very attractive man who had just snogged her beyond her wildest dreams. No way she’d ever get that again, she absently sighed, settling back into her place in the bed. Calitri himself had settled on his side; Rose was grateful the king-sized bed was large enough they could sleep without touching, which until that moment hadn’t bothered her enough to consider.

“I’m going to sleep, stay up if you’d like. Have a lunch meeting tomorrow, final one. This is the one we want to catch. Biggest supplier, best inventory, all that. Wear that summery dress tomorrow with the strappy sandals,” he said, yawning as he turned onto his side, back to Rose. “Night.”

“Night,” she replied, shaking her head. _I feel like I’m just getting myself into something stupid. This isn’t me. I’m not this sort of person. And Mickey! I’m still with Mickey, even worse…_ Rose sighed and turned off the television, setting the alarm beside the bed and turning off the lamp. _No, definitely getting a new job when I get back to England._

  

“Raymond, good of you to finally come around,” the man said, offering a steely handshake to Calitri. Rose could feel the palpable distaste from Calitri for this man, Earl Woolery. She remembered his profile from the binder: 47, twice divorced, tattooed heavily, alleged connection to the Crips gang in LA, and known associate of a number of jewellery heists – both on the supply and demand ends. A gold-capped canine tooth was the man’s trademark, of sorts; his nickname on the street was Goldie.

She learnt that was not because of his gold tooth, but instead because when he’d get angered, he’d start to suck in his cheeks and gape repeatedly, looking astoundingly like a fish. No one called him that to his face, she noted. Woolery had two assistants, or associates, one to either side behind him; Rose was struck how similar to Riker they both were. It seemed like to make it anywhere in the US, one needed at least one overly-hulking henchman enforcer. (But two to be safe. Woolery probably had a few hiding in the wings, on top of that.)

“Who’s this lovely girl?” Woolery’s eyes looked over her as if she were nothing more than a piece of fresh meat.

“My fiancée, Lupe,” Calitri answered, and Rose offered her hand out. Woolery took it, kissing her knuckles with a lascivious look in his eyes. “No getting handsy with her, she’s not on offer.”

“You sure about that?” Woolery asked with a laugh, though it fell flat. Rose felt a fair amount of relief in her chest; of all of the people they’d met, this Woolery was the strangest and most uncomfortable for her. Despite the awkward evening previous, Rose still trusted Calitri to keep her safe. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink and discuss these jewels. Bought some of the best crop. The little lady likes her blue gems, you say?”

Calitri and Rose followed him down into a secluded back room, with Woolery’s two henchmen blocking any possible exit. Calitri pulled out a chair for her, and then seated himself; Rose filed through her purse and took a drink of the sparkling water she’d thrown in there after a stop at a gas station convenience store, an impulse purchase with a snack earlier that morning since breakfast had been a bust. (A waitress had accidentally spilled coffee on Calitri’s leg and caused a detour back to change and make sure he hadn’t gotten horrific burns.) Calitri, on the other hand, waved off the proffered drink from Woolery.

Goldie brought out a wooden tray box, opening it up and pushing a pair of cotton gloves and loupe, as well as tweezers, and Rose gasped audibly at the variety of jewels in the box. She snatched the gloves and, as she had before, quickly got to work investigating the loose stones.

Rose managed to keep a neutral look, but the more and more she looked at the stones, the more she began to realise the stones here were not authentic blue diamonds or sapphires, and were in fact fakes, lower-quality cubic zirconium. She looked over the loupe at Calitri, giving him the signal by rubbing her knee to his, knowing speaking out loud was not exactly possible. Rose had no desire to earn Goldie’s ire by calling him out. “Ray, love, this one…” She set down the stone and pulled off a glove, offering it and the loupe to him. “This one looks really nice.”

Not that either she or Calitri were jewel experts by any means, but both of them had learnt to identify jewels that were at least real rather than CZ in origin. He frowned as he looked it over, coming to the same conclusion as Rose. He picked up a few more stones and found the same hallmarks as the first stone. “Woolery.”

“Finding some you like?”

Calitri set down the loupe. “These are fakes. Cubic zirconium. Not diamonds or sapphires.”

“Are you accusing me of peddling lower-quality product than advertised?” Goldie stood up, a rather imposing figure. “You know me, Carpenter. You know I always have quality product.”

“Then why pedal fakes now? You know I’m not getting her some throwaway bauble, she’s worth far more than that.”

“Even if these were fakes the little lady could fool everyone with the clarity and cut of these stones in a fancy setting. Surely she doesn’t mind.”

“But I’d know, and I mind. You know it’s my neck on the line if you don’t deliver the real goods, Woolery.”

Goldie made a grin, one that carried malicious promise. His gold tooth gleamed under the fluorescent lighting, and Rose felt a shiver work down her spine. “Calitri. Why would I pawn off fake goods on you? We’re associates! Friends, even! Why would I even try to pull something like that?”

Rose scratched the back of her neck, trying to hide her unease. Calitri was growing more and more unhappy, but maintained a neutral expression, knowing he wasn’t on his own ground. Goldie, on the other hand, seemed to be relishing the accusations he tossed back onto Calitri, while doing his best not to let on that he’d been found out. “Because you think you’ve gotten on my good side, you’re seeing how much you can slip past me. I’d assumed you’d bring me something good, maybe a few pieces I could pass off as an accidental failure on the customs agency, pinching and replacing a few real ones with fakes, but this whole box is useless, Woolery.”

“Now that I take offence to, Calitri.” Rose’s eyes darted around the room, noticing both of Woolery’s henchmen were closing in on them. She leaned into Calitri’s arm, her fingers digging into his elbow. “Oh, am I scaring the little lady?”

Calitri stood up, dusting off his slacks, right arm sliding around Rose protectively. “I’m ending this here and now. Show us out, now. This association is over.”

“No, Calitri. I don’t think you understand, it’s far from over. You’re buying these jewels. You know they’re real, you’re just trying to make a fuss, get a lower price. Not going to work on me, English boy.”

Rose bit her lip, trying not to be seen, to minimise herself, and Calitri’s arm tightened around her. Woolery’s face started making gaping fish expression, and it erased any doubt Rose might’ve had as to Goldie’s nickname’s origin. “Whatever it is you think, we’re not making a sale today. I never agreed to a sale. Agreed to take a look at it and decide if I wanted to buy it. So as I said, kindly show us out.”

The two men seemed to be squaring off; the eye contact was chilling and Rose wanted nothing more than to get out of there. It nearly came to blows, but Rose had merely burrowed into Calitri’s side, and evidently her action saved them both from violence.

The door behind them opened, and a bellowing of angry sounds, henchmen grabbing Calitri by the collar and Rose by the back strap of her dress, tearing it, and threw them out of the building, landing in a heap on the alleyway ground near metal rubbish bins. The metal door behind them slammed shut, and Calitri stood up, dusting himself off before offering Rose a hand and looking her over. “Are you all right?”

“A bit shaken up, but what was that?! I thought he was the best of them!” Her voice came in a hissed tone, and Calitri grabbed her hand and pulled her – almost jerking her arm out of socket in haste to get away from the location – out to the main street. “And he ripped my dress!”

Calitri seemed more than a little distracted, but finally looked at the torn straps of her dress, which Rose currently was holding up as not to flash the whole of LA with her breast. “It’s… oh, no, you can’t go around like this.” Calitri frowned, offering her his jacket, which she declined. “There’s a shop over there. Here.” He handed her a wad of cash. “Find yourself another dress you like. I have a bad feeling about this and I need to make some calls.”

“You’re going back to the hotel? I want to go,” she said, knowing it’d be easier to change back in the hotel anyway.

“No,” he said. “Get a dress here. Spend the day shopping, eating, having fun. I need to make calls and I’m not getting you involved right now in this level. This is much more than you’ve signed up for, Rose Tyler.” He glanced up and down the street. “Just come back to the hotel… give me three or four hours before you come back. I don’t want you caught up in this.” Calitri turned on his heel and disappeared before Rose found the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat.

It was not turning out to be a good day, and it was only half ten in the morning.

 

Rose hurried across the street and ducked into a trendy shop, looking for something to wear. A shop girl offered her several cute dresses, but none of them were really her style; after trying on six she was nearly ready to give up when a young black woman sighted her across the shop, and gave her a curious look.

She hadn’t meant to be obvious or anything at her discomfort in these overly feminine dresses (Rose felt like a primary school child; how was this the style here?!), but this young woman seemed to understand. She hurried over, her loud striped tank top and denim jacket over black skinny trousers was far closer to Rose’s own style. “Hi, er, you looked a little…”

“You from England?” Rose asked, ears immediately perking at the woman’s accent.

“You too?” The woman smiled, looking far too excited. “I’m Bill Potts. Visiting… well, just visiting,” she semi-explained. “You?”

“Rose Tyler,” she said, feeling more like herself than she had in days being able to call herself by her own name. “Nice to meet you.”

Bill grinned, looking her over. “I know a shop that is probably more your style, it’s a bit down the street.”

She flushed a bit. “I, er, my dress, the straps snapped, I’m not sure…”

“Go change, c’mon, you can borrow my jacket. Go go go!” Rose wasn’t sure what this girl was on about, but she quickly changed and took Bill’s offered jacket. “Ooh, better already.”

Rose couldn’t help but smile, the first genuine one for days “Where’s this shop?”

The pair left the shop and walked down a block or so to a different shop; trendier clothes, though higher end. Rose picked a pair of denim overalls, legs cut short, with a gauzy blouse with boldly coloured floral outlines breaking the neutral colouring of the blouse itself. Bill had a fairly good taste in fashion, Rose couldn’t deny.

Feeling much better in the fun, comfortable clothes, Rose turned to Bill. “Thank you, I cannot thank you enough,” she gushed, and Bill gave her a grin. “How can I thank you?”

“How about… what about ice cream? It’s getting so hot out now, isn’t it? It just seems right for ice cream.”

“You sure? It is about lunchtime…”

“Well I sort of need to find my friend, the person I’m travelling with, and he’s not really a fan of ice cream.”

Rose laughed. “Neither is mine. Let’s go, yeah?” Rose pushed the door open and Bill followed, chattering on about days serving chips in the university canteen where she worked, and Rose filled the space with stories of her own mundane life, concluding with her story about the explosion at Hendrik’s, though omitting particularly strange details.

The ice cream queue moved quickly with their chatter, and after getting two sprinkle-topped vanilla cones, Bill pointed toward an empty bench overlooking the promenade of the shopping street. “Can I ask you something?” Bill asked, looking as if she were sitting atop a juicy secret.

“Sure,” Rose replied, licking at the top of her cone. “What is it?”

“Have you ever done something… something really out of the norm for you, and… felt like you should’ve taken a chance rather than, than settling?”

Rose shook her head, then laughed. “If I had a pound for every time I wish I’d gone out on a limb, Bill, I’d be a rich girl. Instead I make safe choices and the one time I step out of that I think I’m making the second-biggest mistake of my life.”

She felt Bill’s eyes on her. “What do you mean second-biggest?”

“I… I don’t know,” Rose sighed, unwilling to be completely honest with this stranger about her second thoughts for every decision she’d made in the last few months. “I want to do something with myself, and I… might’ve had a chance to and I turned it down.”

“… and here you are just sitting about having an ice cream people watching rather than seeing the sights, Bill Potts.” A lower, male voice, a man in a black hooded jacket and slacks, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “Oh, making friends so fast are we?”

Bill looked up, grinning. “It’s a bit overcast and you’re wearing those sunglasses, Doctor?” Rose’s head jerked up at that moment, as the Doctor pulled the glasses from his face. _No, silly of me. Not possible._

But the Doctor looked at Rose, a clear recognition in his eyes. “A surprising meeting,” he finally managed, tucking his sunglasses atop his head. “Unexpected.”

 Rose looked at him, but this was not the leather-jacketed, knitted-jumper-wearing, Northern-accented Doctor she knew. Maybe he was another alien like him? What… why did she automatically think he was an alien? Maybe another quirky person from right here in LA, with a decent Scottish-sounding accent.

But that was definitely a look of recognition. No denying it. “Rose Tyler.” The voice was lower, raspier than she remembered, but he didn’t seem at all like what she imagined the Doctor would have aged into. But, no way he aged _that_ quickly, a few months and he looked utterly different. Not possible.

“How do you…” She stopped, frowning, then blinking. _No. Not remotely possible. No way._ The Doctor sat down on the bench across from the two ladies, more on edge than Rose could understand. Not that she was entirely relaxed either, but… “Doctor.”

“Yes.” Rough and raspy was exactly it. But it immediately sparked a flood of memories in her head. _Rose Tyler. Forget me._ But she hadn’t. “You haven’t forgotten.”

“No…” _Impossible._

After looking between the two of them, Bill looked at the Doctor with a pointed expression. “You know Rose?”

“It was a long, long time ago,” he began, “we… encountered some mannequins on the loose.”

Bill’s eyes lit up. “Henrik’s? The explosion?”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes, though I imagine the story you’ve gotten from Rose is not quite the actual situation.”

“Sanitised,” Rose finally managed. “You’ve changed. A lot.”

“A lot is right. There’ve been a lot of changes between when we last met. And you have regrets.”

“What young woman doesn’t?” Rose huffed, but with no real fire behind it, the words fell flat. She didn’t even think to question his automatic assumption of her regret; the Doctor knew far more than he should for Rose’s liking. “I’ve gotten into a bit of a spot here, and Bill helped me find real clothes here. Nothing like _that_ ,” she added, “just a series of rather poor decisions.”

“But the decisions, they’re not forever, you know.” The Doctor’s voice seemed almost gentle, fatherly – not what Rose expected.

She immediately fought back; it was more reflex than borne of an emotion, though one did soon develop. “I’ve made poor decisions and I’ve probably lost that happily ever after we’re always after.”

“There’s no such thing as happily ever after. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.”

Rose let out a shuddering breath. “You are him, aren’t you. Somewhere inside.”

“Well, something like that,” he explained, “but this isn’t the time nor place for it.”

“Is there a time or place for it? World hurtlin’ round the sun at sixty-somethin’-thousand miles an hour, fallin’ through space, you told me?” Rose sighed. “Maybe that was the right decision, not goin’ with you. Maybe I’d be here instead of Bill here, hearin’ you whinge on about not seeing the sights while we have an ice cream.”

The Doctor’s lips tightened before he spoke. “What precisely are you implying, Rose Tyler.” Not even a question; Bill sat rapt as her ice cream melted over her hand, dripping to the ground unnoticed.

“You wouldn’t have come back for me. My bronze in gymnastics isn’t very useful.”

“You still saved me, you know.” Rose could only shrug; she’d envisioned, if she had ever been so lucky as to see him again, having a conversation like this. He seemed to see something in her, and she’d kicked herself for not having taken his offer. Turned down to take care of her stupid lump of a boyfriend and her mother… “You’re full of regrets.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you’d not take a girl from the estates with nothin’ special about her on your journeys. Bill here’s far more exciting than I ever could’ve been.”

Bill shook her head, the remnants of her ice cream falling from the cone, groaning after a moment as she realised she’d wasted the snack. “The Doctor has such faith in people, Rose, he wouldn’t have asked your help before if he didn’t think you capable.”

Rose shrugged. “He was a bit held up by a creature at the moment, he kept telling me to run.”

“And she didn’t. This one didn’t do well listening, but… if not, well.” The Doctor smiled.

“The Doctor told me once that people aren’t measured by our progress, but the value we put on people. On someone who’s ‘unimportant.’ Someone who everyone would likely forget. The value you put on those people… they’re the most important ones, don’t you think, Doctor?”

“Very much so,” he agreed. “Rose Tyler has more value than she thinks she’s got.”

“Whatever.” She stood up, shaking her head. “I haven’t got any way to change the past, too late for that, and either way I’m stuck in a mess here. I don’t know what to do.”

“Sleep on it. Get back to London. Look for your chance,” the Doctor said, giving her a look that seemed to know more than he was willing to – or rather, going to – say.

Rose looked at Bill, and sighed. “Nice meeting you.” To the Doctor, “It’s… it’s good to see you again. I think. Something like that.” Rose took the bag with a few items – including her destroyed dress – and left, wandering the city for a while, deeply affected by the conversation, mind soon settling on her next course of action.


	10. Attachment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hankies at the ready, I suppose. Rose throws herself out for mercy, returns to London, and tries to make her future. Thanks for what, Mickey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my dear readers for following this thing through and encouraging me. As ridiculous as this monster is, it was a fun ride and I’m glad this plot bunny is free. Enjoy! Lastly, a thank you to Tumblr dear acreasy1 for the fic title; with Calitri and with Rose having their penchants for various things, it was a wonderful decision. Each chapter title is a synonym of ‘penchant’ - chosen to apply to the chapter.

At nearly six Rose finally returned to the hotel room. It was empty; a note scrawled in hasty scribbles, sat on the desk blotter.

_Gone to dinner with a client. Back around nine. Get yourself dinner. All is clear now. RC_

Lovely. Rose sighed, throwing all of her things down on the bed. They’d fly out tomorrow, eleven in the morning, the tickets on the desk said. Rose had never looked forward to something so much. After changing into her sleepwear, she packed up everything else, minus her toiletries and clothes for the next day, into her suitcase, tossed it back onto the luggage stand, and fell onto her back on the bed as she tried to drive her thoughts into some kind of order.

_I definitely am quitting this job when I get back. Giving back the jewellery, the clothes, all of it. It just feels so tainted and gross. Yeah, that drunk bloke was right. A really great year, huh? Meeting an alien and saving London from mannequins and now this disaster…_ Rose raked her hand in her hair, bringing several strands over her face. _And now seeing the Doctor again… sort of, not really convinced it’s him, but…_ “I want to believe.”

She turned her head to the window, looking at the sun still fairly high in the sky. Rose quickly stood up and grabbed her clothes of earlier in the day, throwing them on, and dashing back out of the hotel.

 

 

“You sure she’s all right?” Bill asked, looking at the tar pit in front of her, leaning against a statue of an elephant. Everyone around them was gone, and the Doctor seemed quite focussed on something within the depths of the tar pits. “Doctor?”

“Nardole would be quite fascinated with this,” the Doctor replied, not having paid an iota of attention to Bill. “You were saying something?”

“Yeah, Rose…”

“You’re worried about her.”

“Well, yeah.” Bill looked at the Doctor. “You know her, when did’ya meet her?”

The Doctor lapsed into silence. “It was a long time ago.”

She rolled her eyes. “Time? Oh Doctor, that’s a good one.” Bill pushed off of the elephant, looking around at the deserted park. “Somethin’ about her, it’s like you don’t want me to know who she is.”

Another long silence, the Doctor walked from the pit back toward where Bill now stood wandering aimlessly. “Rose Tyler,” he rolled her name from his lips. “I didn’t want to come here. We weren’t supposed to come here. Something is very, very wrong, very off, time’s gotten wrinkled and ironed out the wrong way.” A third long silence. “She’s made the wrong choice. But why, she’s too clever a woman to do that, she should have come along, but she didn’t. Why? Why could that be?”

Bill shook her head as the Doctor began to ramble. She heard a rustling near by, a sound of someone hitting the chain link fence. She turned her head, and a familiar figure came running over. “Doctor?”

“Not now Bill,” he replied, but Bill yanked his arm and as he made to protest, his head jerked up to the figure now standing at the TARDIS, her hands gently sliding over the wood in some reverent caress. “Oh. _Oh._ ” He began walking – perhaps stomping, more accurately – toward the TARDIS. “Rose.”

“Please, please let me come with you.” Rose turned to face them, her eyes a bit wet. “Doctor, please.”

“Crying’s not a good look for you,” he answered, but Bill noticed he was still quite uneasy since their meeting earlier in the day. “I can’t take you with me, Rose. The timelines are already mangled.”

Rose’s fingers clenched and twitched, as if she were thinking words but deciding against saying them. “Why not? What do you mean, mangled?”

A chuckle. “Headstrong. You’ll manage to muck things up on your own again.” Rose gave him a puzzled look, but he said nothing further. “Go back home, enjoy your beans on toast, I think I said?”

Rose managed a choked laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yeah, that, I don’t even eat beans on toast,” she said, a lie, not that it meant anything in the moment.

“You have a great future ahead of you, Rose Tyler, if you just make the right decision. But.” He walked closer, pushing open the TARDIS door, “now is not the right time to make decisions.”

“But… but when is?” she asked.

“Come along, Bill. Places to go.” Rose tried to block Bill, but somehow found herself frozen in place. “Go home Rose. Go _home_. Forget _me_.”

Bill quickly found herself pulled into the TARDIS, and she looked at Rose’s image on a screen along the console. “You knew her ages ago, yeah? What’s the deal?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you, Bill.” He seemed pensive and was clearly unwilling to say much more. Rose must’ve been a sore spot in the Doctor’s past. How sore, she wasn’t sure, but Bill definitely wanted to know. “Oh come on, for you to be so secretive it has to be a juicy secret.”

He turned to Bill, a look of steel in his eyes. “It’s nothing that concerns you, so it’s in your best interest to drop it.”

She grinned, walking around the console, before realisation dawned. “You… did you love her?”

A stony silence followed, but the response she got was not the one she had expected, even though she wasn’t sure what she expected in the first place. “I did, and I have yet to do so,” he said, words measured. “She should have gone. And she didn’t. But she’s… there’s now a paradox and unless she comes with me – not me, me, but… me then – then there’s going to be a lot of trouble.”

She nodded, not exactly understanding but having some inkling, and fixed her eyes on the console screen: Rose Tyler sank to her knees, face in her hands, as the Doctor pushed buttons and turned knobs, and for a moment, Bill felt a tiny hint of hope for her new friend.

 

 

Rose packed her personal odds and ends into her hand-luggage, and upon being dropped at the warehouse by a Black Cab, Rose stored her suitcase in her office, and begged off the rest of the day, claiming a headache and jetlag. Her Tube trip home passed in a blur, and if asked later, Rose couldn’t recall a thing she had done or said since watching the TARDIS disappear once again.

Her mobile chimed with a text. She snatched it up, glancing at the sender’s name: Shareen. _No, Shareen, I’m not going out tonight_ , she thought, but tossed her phone back to her table. It chimed again, and then a few more times. Rose groaned, burrowing into the blankets; the last thing she wanted to do was look at her mobile. Or see people. Mostly, see people.

She lost track of time, having fallen asleep in the warmth of her blankets, and the clock read around six when she finally roused, her bladder demanding it. Rose groaned, slid out of bed, and wrapped up in her comforter as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Rose? Rose, you awake?” her mother called out, and Rose rubbed at her eye while paused outside the bathroom. “Rose, this letter came while you were gone, looked kind of important.” Jackie handed her a letter, though nothing about it seemed particularly special or important.

She handled her business and washed up, dinosaur-walking back to her room and sitting on the bed while turning the letter over in her hands. “Fine!” she blurted at it, after an internal monologue about what it could be or why something like this was sent to her. It was a simple envelope, only bearing her name on the front – a scrawled handwriting that under other circumstances Rose might call artistic, but in her current state of annoyance Rose thought it looked messy and rushed. Especially since the envelope bore no identifying information: no return address, no stamp or postmark, and no seal on the back. The writing wasn’t particularly familiar, either – everyone she could think of had some sort of distinction she’d expect in how they wrote her name, and none of those things appeared. Might as well have been typed, for all the clues it didn’t hold.

Finally she tore the envelope open, and pulled out a single sheet of off-white paper with the faint scent of chalk dust and lime and something, something with a faint tinge of familiarity but the memory remained just out of reach.

_Rose Tyler. Forget_ ME _. But do not forget me. There is still time for it to be a great year._

She tossed it to her dresser, and steeled herself to look at her messages. The last one, from Mickey, caught her eye.

_babe! match on come 2 pub. theyre having gr8 yr!_

“Mum! I’m going out. Love you!”

“Rose! Rose, where—” The door slammed behind her, only a flash of blonde hair and grey and burgundy hoodie as Rose rushed out, the cat door flapping in her sudden rush.

 

 

Rose wandered down to the pub, Mickey’s usual, a few matches playing on the big screens in the pub. She found him sat in his usual place, in front of one of the smaller screens but near the bar; Rose nudged him as she took the stool beside his. “Stranger.”

“Hey!” Mickey pulled her into a hug, looking relieved. “Thought you wouldn’t come back from the States but your mum said you’d come home and slept.”

“Yeah, jetlag,” she said, waving it off. “Look, what did you mean, they’re having a great year?”

“The whole Premier League! Loads of great matches, great match-ups, teams are top-notch,” he began rambling. “It’s going to be a great year!”

Rose sunk onto the barstool, shaking her head. “Right.” Rose ordered herself a soda and watched the match with Mickey, as much as being lost in thought while absently staring at the telly could be considered “watching”.

“Rose?” Mickey asked during a brief commercial break. “You all right? You look like you need to go to bed.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine. Hey, I’ll… I’ll be right back.” Mickey gave her a nod and Rose threw down some bills for her drink, hurrying out of the pub and into the nearest Boots.

Within a half hour, Rose had returned, buying another drink before sitting back beside Mickey and whipping out the purchase, her pocket weighted down by something else she’d retrieved. “Whatcha got there?” he asked, looking blindly between Rose and the telly, the latter definitely holding more of his attention.

“Just writing a letter,” she replied, “something I should’ve done ages ago. When we leave, after the match, don’t let me forget to drop it off.”

“Right, right, oh no no no! Oh you donut!” Mickey yelled at the television, as Rose continued to write.

The match finished very shortly after, and Rose and Mickey departed, heading toward a chip shop to grab a quick dinner; Rose luckily found a post box and dropped her small parcel off just before they settled on a shop (hoping she’d put on enough stamps). “This work for you?”

“Yeah, I… really want chips,” Rose said, absently rubbing her stomach.

“Leave it to me babe.” Mickey grinned, kissing her cheek before popping over to place an order. Rose sat down at one of the tables, the umbrella opened with fairy lights hanging inside to give diners some romantic mood lighting. However dim it was, it was still more than the lampposts and the dimmed light spilling from the inside of the shop where food was ordered and cooked. She sat down, elbow on the table as she leant onto her hand, watching Mickey.

It took a few minutes for the orders to fry up, and soon enough Mickey returned to the table, an order of chips for Rose and a large fish and chips for himself. Rose rolled her eyes; her own fault for not specifying, but she didn’t have the energy to complain. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks,” Rose managed, and Mickey dove into his own order. Rose asked him about what she’d missed in the last week, and as she expected, he launched into a story of something at the mechanic shop, a few match recaps, Mickey coming round to talk with Jackie about something – something about the Estate doing their extermination visit this coming week, Rose parsed out. Mickey also shared a story about Shareen, almost getting in the drunk tank for a night from a run-in after one of her drinks and talk evenings on Monday.

“She quite literally tried to put her hands up the copper’s shirt, I didn’t know she was that drunk when I was picking her up from the club!”

“Cops there before you?”

“Yeah, got lucky they released her to me. You know she’s got a boyfriend now yeah?”

“I…” Rose shook her head. “I’ve not read all my messages yet,” she said, nodding toward her mobile. “Not surprised, though.”

“Me either. Bloke’s an idiot and doesn’t even like football. How’s that even possible?”

Rose shook her head, “Who knows.” She finished her last chip and snatched one from Mickey, who didn’t seem to notice. “You about done?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Mickey jammed the last few bites of fish into his mouth, looking something like a hungry hamster, cheeks puffed out almost comically, and picked up their rubbish. “Unh on.”

She stood up, punching his shoulder gently. “Gonna choke, you are,” she laughed, zipping up her hoodie as Mickey tossed the rubbish. “Let’s have a walk, yeah?”

Mickey agreed, and the two began wandering around. It wasn’t much past nine, and a strange feeling of déjà vu slid down her spine. “You cold, Rose?” he asked. “It’s chilly isn’t it?” he pulled his own jacket tighter, and Rose rolled her eyes. _Lot of help you are, offering your jacket, warming a girl up._ Not that Mickey was notorious for being romantic…

“No, it’s…” She stopped, looking around. “I just have this weird feeling.”

“You’ve had loads of weird feelings since that crazy Doctor guy left. Glad he’s gone. Glad you stayed here,” he rambled. “Guy’s a jerk and useless isn’t he? Got those monsters and aliens and all that…”

Rose shook her head as they walked down an alley, making a shortcut, as a metal rubbish bin fell over, rolling about in the alley. Mickey jumped, clutching onto Rose as she jerked with a start. “It’s a rubbish bin, Mickey.” She shook her head as they took a few steps in, and Rose heard a sound she both swore she wouldn’t hear again, and yet, desperately _needed_ to hear again.

A whooshing sound, a sudden gust of wind. Mickey let out a yelp and hid behind Rose, clutching at her arm like a small child.

Rose, on the other hand, felt the air whoosh past her face and whip her hair about, a blue Police Box materialising before them.

“Oh no, no, not that again!” he squealed, his legs going out from him, and only by grace of Rose’s ability to stay standing, he managed to remain upright. The door opened, and Mickey pointed an accusing finger. “No! Not you again!”

“Not here for you. Rose Tyler.”

“Rose, no!” Mickey’s voice wavered, and Rose stood transfixed. She swore her heart had stopped beating, but then resumed with a fierce thudding. “Rose, no, he’s, he’s… he’s an alien, you know you should stay away from him!”

She licked her lips, almost in a stall for time, her throat too dry for words to even form at first. “Is… is it you?”

The Doctor looked himself over, daft grin plastered on his face. It bordered on an almost manic expression. If Rose were optimistic, she’d say he was delighted to see her again. “Yes.”

“Not all old and grey and… Scottish.”

His blue eyes flashed, turning dark for a moment with a distant expression, then almost immediately cleared. “Not old and grey and Scottish. Too far north.”

She looked relieved, a hand at her chest for just a moment. “It is you.”

“Yes, very impressive, me, back here again, me.” He stopped, looking at them. “He’s still not invited.” Even with that statement, the daft grin returned to his face.

Rose’s lips curved up in a smile, her heart pounding with hopeful anticipation. The feeling didn’t last long. “Oh, no, Rose. You’re not really considering it again. You told him no and he’s come back again!” Mickey spun Rose around to face him, glaring with an almost angry annoyance over her shoulder at the Doctor. He met Rose’s eyes. “Please, Rose, you know he’s weird and crazy and you didn’t go with him before, you shouldn’t go with him this time.”

“Rose.” Her head whipped around fast enough her hair slapped right into Mickey’s face. The Doctor cocked a hand up, thumb pointing behind him into his blue box. “Still travels in time, y’know.” The slight fall and immediate schooling to neutrality of the Doctor’s face didn’t escape Rose’s eyes, as for the second time he disappeared into the TARDIS.

She looked again at Mickey, and gave a nod. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for what?” Mickey looked baffled for a moment, but then his eyes seemed to show the realisation dawning.

“Exactly,” she said, kissing his cheek. Rose stepped away from him and turned to the blue box – determined to make the most of this second chance.

 

 

 

1.

_Mr. Calitri,_

_Please consider this my letter of resignation. It’s clear to both of us I am not cut out for this position. Your secrets are safe with me. We all have secrets of our own to keep._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Rose Tyler._

His eyes scanned the letter, as “professional” as it might have been (or not), Calitri couldn’t say he was surprised. After Goldie trying to scam him, nothing had gone right; Rose had been less than affectionate and almost icy at times during the flight, which – to be fair – he had expected after her late arrival back to the hotel room the night before. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened that afternoon but he hadn’t intended to put her in such danger.

And now… a resignation letter. Based on the postmark, she’d sent it soon after arriving back to the UK. He growled and slammed his fist down on his desk. A few items went flying, pens and paper mostly, and his stapler fell from his desk. And to top it off he’d just gotten news in equal measure good and bad: good, a new contract order for fifty cars, high-end; bad, because of the failure to secure the jewels, Calitri was being run out of the UK, “if you value your life,” the letter had said.

She’d given him a nice parting gift, at least. In the envelope, wrapped up in cloth and bubble wrapping, he opened it to find a pair of brass knuckles. Calitri lifted them, looking them over with mild curiosity. Rose Tyler didn’t strike him as one to go around buying weapons like this, but it was possibly the most fitting gift he’d ever received. They fit perfectly along his fingers in the curve of his hand. Imagine that.

At least he had a lead on someone to acquire the cars, for him, a kid by the name of Kip Raines. Car heists ran in his family, so it should go well. And it’d give him time to finish the building his coffin. “LA, didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” he muttered, glancing at the printed-out ticket on his desk. He dropped the brass knuckles to his desk, picking up the blueprint of his coffin, and returned to his table saw, determined to finish the thing before his flight in a few days more. Car boosting was much, much safer than jewel heists, at least.

 

 

 

The oddest sensation of comfort surrounded Rose the moment she stepped foot inside the TARDIS; though it had been months for her, it seemed like just yesterday – the sensations of déjà vu felt welcome. The Doctor stood over the console, eyes focused on something as the TARDIS door closed of its own accord behind her. She slowly walked over toward him, tentative, as if approaching too closely would reveal this to be nothing more than a dream. “Doctor?” she finally said, voice hesitant.

He didn’t look up, but his tongue swiped out across his lips. “Yes?”

She took another step forward. “Is this real?”

“As real as it’s ever been.” Everything, and nothing at all.

“I mean is this moment real. I’m not, like, it’s not a dream.”

“No. Not a dream.” For the first time Rose noticed the Doctor’s hands were tightly clenched, but otherwise unmoving. His eyes seemed focussed on the panels, but the closer she inched to him, Rose could see the trembling in his fingers, as if absolutely itching to touch, to do _something_. “What made you say yes this time, Rose Tyler?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, what the right thing to say even was. “Been doin’ some thinkin’,” she said, wandering around the console, pointedly not looking at the Doctor as she spoke. “It was a mistake, I should’ve gone when you asked the first time.” He made a sound and Rose turned to glance at him. “I still don’t know anythin’ about you, this is utterly crazy.”

“And yet here you are,” he said, still not looking up. “So what made you say yes this time?”

Rose leant against the railing across from the Doctor, who moved toward the jump seat in a nervous action. “You asked me to come with you, yeah? Not because of my bronze, or because I’m some brave bombshell, or street smart and madly clever, just… ‘cos I’m me, right?”

For the first time since her arrival in the TARDIS that night, he looked up and met her eyes. “Yes.”

“We’ve all done things we regret, yeah?” She looked down, his blue gaze too intense for her in that moment. “Regret… someone once told me regret is a heady driver of emotion, Doctor. And I had regrets not going with you, not… takin’ that chance.” She took a deep breath. “Got myself into quite a spot just recently. A lot of them. Made rash choices and I’m not entirely sure how I got out of it all alive,” she added, a bit of a sigh in her tone. From the corner of her eye she could see the Doctor ready to question, but reigning in his curiosity. “And… someone told me it was going to be a great year, Doctor, and so far it really hasn’t, and maybe, well maybe that’s going to change, now.”

Silence reigned a few moments, aside from the low hum of the TARDIS in the background. Rose felt the sounds echoing in her head, and she silently begged the Doctor to say something, anything. Their eyes locked, his serious expression melting into that daft grin she realised in that moment she _desperately_ needed.

“Right then, Rose Tyler. You tell me, where d’you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time, your choice, what’s it gonna be?”

A quick, tongue-touched grin split her own face. “Forwards.”


End file.
